Dead In The Water
by BurnBuddy
Summary: Bill was dead, Louis was injured, and the rain had begun. Stranded after risking their lives to lend a helping hand to complete strangers Francis, Zoey, and Louis are with out a map, a clue, or sliver of hope between them. Bill was the purpose and the guiding light. Left to their own devices, will the trio band together or remain dead in the water?
1. Prologue: Eye of The Storm

**Author's Note**: First of all, I am going to do a disclaimer that applies to the entire length of this story. I neither own Left4Dead or any of it's respective content. Secondly, this story is already finished, meaning I spent the last year writing and editing this monster. It's over 130k words long, but I will only be publishing one chapter every other Friday (unless I am physically incapacitated for some reason) until it is complete. The reason for this is that I want to be able to give each chapter a fresh read before upload, as well as to be able to take criticism into account from the commenters. I hope you all enjoy this journey with me.**  
**

To see large poster and other story images visit: burnbuddy DOT deviantart DOT com (hyperlink in profile if you don't get it)

**L4D: Dead In The Water  
**

_Prologue: Eye of The Storm_

Wispy gray clouds spotted the fading violet sky. Aside from the wakening chirps of crickets in the new evening, the city was silent and devoid of life. It could have been likened to postcard image frozen in time. Cars turned belly-up in the streets and broken shop windows were the only indicators anything was actually amiss. Safe in the cover of a small hideaway, barricaded behind a large steel door a small group of haggard travelers rested quietly but alertly. They knew it wouldn't take much more than the sound of a misstep on broken glass to flood the serene streets with a mindless swarm of death.

For a split second a match strike revealed the four inhabitants of the temporary refuge. A cloud of tobacco smoke wafted up and out of the barred window of a red steel door. Eyes closed, an old man with a dirty gray beard and a weathered face welcomed the numbing rush of nicotine and allowed himself a rare moment of serenity.

Despite his years he'd proved remarkably resilient in the time since the green cloud of death had swallowed the world. Life as it was then was the unprecedented event of humanity's backward reentry into the food chain. How and why it happened remained a mystery. Most only knew what the news had broadcasted. There had been an outbreak of a horrible virus that rotted the flesh off the bones and the soul out of the mind. Once contaminated, the infected would fall victim to an insatiable hunger that drove them to eat any and all living flesh. This hunger also served to propagate the disease at an alarming rate. Some called them the walking dead, most just settled with infected or zombies due to their similarities to the old B horror movie monsters.

Half of the east coast of the continental United States had already fallen victim to the tide of death. Since the lines of communication had gone silent, no one really knew the true extent of the carnage. All the old man knew was that it was a clusterfuck that tested every minute of survival and battlefield experience he had. In order to survive, and protect the precious few who looked to him for guidance he did whatever it took stay on his toes. Earth was no longer a place that possessed any sort of caring and compassion toward the weak and infirm. Thankfully he was nothing of the sort despite his advanced age, never had been. With a spark in his eye he would stare death in the face with a steady hand while casually puffing on a cigarette. He was a veteran of a horrible war and wasn't sacred of death or those who would try to dole it out. Unfortunately those skills that were once the byproduct of a rugged life had become a basic necessity to stay alive. Those who didn't possess the skills or know someone who did were almost literally swallowed alive.

Taking quick inventory of his fellow travelers, or wards as he was coming to regard them, he was pleased to note that they all seemed in good enough shape. Bruises, cuts, and a moderate amount of pain was the new normal for all, but there was nothing life threatening. Though 'life threatening' at that venture could have been something as simple as a sprained ankle or broken leg. They tended their wounds silently as they settled into nooks and crannies in the tiny shelter, curled up with thin blankets, and optimistically attempted to rest.

The largest of the old man's fellow travelers tossed and turned for several minutes until he was bested by the futility of seeking comfort. Finally he threw his blanket off with a curse and made his way over to the door where the old had man propped himself up to stand guard. Leaning over and peering carefully through the rebar window, he mindlessly smoothed his facial hair. Exhaling a stream of smoke, the old man curiously inquired, "What is it?"

"Aside from the top rate accommodations, it's too damn quiet."

The old man nodded knowingly. "We are in some up FUBAR'd times when a pleasant evening is this unnerving."

"I hate crickets." He mumbled in reply. They shared a momentary silence before he looked over his shoulder at the other two travelers and sighed. "Bill, something I gotta know. Why do you babysit those two? You don't need them." Fortune had placed him with the old man and his two friends just a week earlier. It had been a unique experience for him on many different levels.

"Francis, as you like to point out every 30 seconds, I'm _old_." He chuckled tiredly and took a long drag on his cigarette then sprinkled the ashes out the window. "We all need each other in one fashion or another." His answer received a sour frown. "That being said, I will ask you the same question. Why do you continue babysit me and my young friends? You've been threatening to leave since we pulled your heavy ass out of that horde, yet here you are."

"Well, you-they-bullshit-uh..." He stammered defensively. Bill continued to watch in amusement while Francis failed to pin down any coherent words.

"The way I see it, son, everyone here has something to give." Bill nodded to those sleeping, "As well as something they need."

"That's my damn point. You don't need anything from them."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

When Bill paused he felt a deep frustration. Francis never claimed to be sympathetic, compassionate, or even all that nice. He had no patience or any real capacity for philosophical debate. Bill's leading questions only served to irritate him.

"Over the course of my miserable life I have learned one irrefutable fact: People are not meant to be alone. The company of the most damned irritating person in the world is preferable to isolation. "

"That's some cheesy ass hippie shit, Bill."

"Is it? Again I repeat, 'yet here you are'." The old man motioned dramatically at Francis with his hands.

"FYI I am here, because for the moment, it is safer to be in a group. When the opportunity strikes I'd be better off alone, you won't even see me go."

Bill grunted. "You remind me a lot of myself at your age, kid."

"Kid?" Francis replied sourly. "I'm 36 years old."

"You were in diapers when I was 36 so you're just a snot nosed brat as far as I am concerned. I will count the days until you leave and if you're _still_ here after 2 more weeks, you owe me a six pack of _ice cold_ beer. I'll be generous and not specify a brand."

"You're on, old man. And I'm taking your beret with me."

"Alright... Oh, and they need to be glass bottles. And I want lime." Bill trailed off as he continued to list his drink preferences.

"And I want a playboy bunny, but that's just not in the cards. Doesn't matter, I'll be out of here in the next couple of days." Francis grinned. He'd take that beret, put it on a zombie and shoot it, one with a stinking gray beard.

Bill ignored his bravado as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes, debating whether he would have another. "Then what, Francis?"

The simple question ripped Francis out of his reverie. "What, what?"

"How will you go about being by yourself?" Bill asked, genuinely curious, stuffing his pack into his shirt pocket. It was late and he was too tired to sit much longer, he'd have to dump sentry duty on Francis this evening. "I know it's none of my concern, but once you're alone who's gonna stand guard while you sleep? Who will watch your six when you're facing a horde? Who will stitch you up?"

Francis stopped smiling. He didn't think that far ahead. Then again he never really did.

"It will be an interesting two weeks, son." Bill yawned then picked up his blanket and headed for a corner of his own. "I'll see you in the morning. Zoey will relieve you in about four hours. That's all kinds of time to plan your exit strategy."

"Yeah...strategy." Francis's voice faltered. There was silence for a few minutes while Bill settled in to his own corner. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep he was called back.

"Bill?" Francis asked quietly.

Bill grunted in response then shifted in surprise at an unexpected vulnerability in Francis's voice. "I just remembered; I can't go anywhere or no one will be able to carry you when you break your hip."

"Lime, Francis, don't forget the lime."

Bill was about to drift off to sleep but was again called back from the welcoming oblivion, this time by an urgent whisper.

"_Bill?_" A young woman's voice drew a small smirk to his face.

"Yes, dear?"

"He's not leaving us is he_?_" Her concern was palpable. She stole a quick glance toward the door.

"Can't. Owes me beer."

"Oh... ok, good. Goodnight Bill." She finished quietly and wrapped up in her blanket. Waiting for a long second she peered up toward the man standing watch. "Um, goodnight... Francis?"

At the door he remained still. It was strange for someone to wish him good _anything_. Awkwardly, without looking back, he waved a hand. "Uh, goodnight? Don't let the vampires bite?"

"Zombies." She corrected with a smile and snuggled back down into her corner. "And for the next four hours, that's your job."

Grinning he turned his head back. "Hey Zoey, what if I bite you?"

"GOOD NIGHT FRANCIS." Bill warned loudly.

"Just sayin...I can't control if I turn...nibble a bit…" He trailed off, babbling.

There was a clink as an empty M16 gun clip missed his head by inches and hit the wall. He couldn't tell who it came from.

"Four hours." Francis reminded her in a hushed voice. Wrapped up in her blanket, Zoey suppressed a giggle, secretly wondering what he would do if she overslept.


	2. All's Bad That Starts Bad

To see large poster and other story images visit: burnbuddy DOT deviantart DOT com (hyperlink in profile if you don't get it)

* * *

**Chapter1: All's Bad That Starts Bad**

The sky swirled with angry black clouds and hemorrhaged rain, lightening, and thunder. It had steadily grown more violent since they narrowly escaped that bridge with their lives... well, _three_ of their lives. As food and medical supplies ran low they knew couldn't wait any longer. After losing Bill they were simply not willing to consider the option of leaving another person behind. Trudging on in their quest to find shelter beyond the city limits, they were desperately attempting to put as much distance between them, the city, and the bridge as possible. If they hadn't put aside their own well being to help another scraggly group of survivors they would have been out scrounging around for shelter in much more agreeable weather. It was growing dark, cold, and proving difficult see more than fifteen feet ahead in the unyielding torrent of rain.

The weather matched Zoey's mood well. When she'd woken up that morning everything was perfectly OK, relatively anyway. She couldn't have even fathomed that the day would end with one dead and another knocking on death's door. Every day since the initial contamination had been one potentially fatal adventure after another. She was angry at herself for having grown complacent, believing her team was becoming impervious to the carnage around them. Out of sheer wishful thinking she had expected them to always be around like she once did of her family. She never thought she would experience, or that it was even possible to experience a day as excruciating as the first.

A pained grunt sounded a few feet ahead of her followed by a growl. "You're too damn slow, Louis! I'm going to have to carry your broke ass."

The two figures were barely recognizable in the gale, but she could see the larger one pick up the other and throw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before the other man could register a response.

"Francis! I didn't say-" His words were drowned out by thunder.

"Complain later, Louis!" Zoey yelled, "We need to get to a shelter before we get picked off!" Or freeze to death.

She charged ahead of Francis and Louis, pointing her rifle into the darkness. They had been creeping along the jammed highway outside the last small suburb for about an hour. Moving slowly initially they were finally able to pick up some speed with Louis begrudgingly hitching a ride. They followed but stayed off the road where who-knows-what could be hiding in the defunct autos strewn about the pavement.

After a few miles of heavy rain they reached what looked like an off ramp and climbed it. At the top of the exit was a cluster of empty buildings: bars, gas stations, a seedy hotel, and some local businesses. There were a few empty vehicles around, but the buildings had clearly been empty for weeks. Looting was apparent, but their surroundings seemed intact for the most part.

Zoey led them through the muddy alleys in between buildings while Francis and Louis stayed close behind, holding both of their weapons at the ready. Around corner after corner there were handfuls of infected milling about in the rain, instinctively seeking out shelter as they huddled against the walls of the buildings.

"There should be more of them." Francis noted wearily over the storm.

"Maybe they have enough of a brain left to instinctively seek shelter!" Louis yelled seriously.

"What do you-", Francis turned to respond, accidentally knocking Louis against a wall.

"Gah! My head!"

"My bad." Francis apologized. Zoey allowed herself to smile for just a second. Bill would have found that hilarious.

_Would have_.

Sighing sadly, she pointed her flashlight in a window then turned back. "I'm tired of being wet. Should we go in the hotel? They have beds."

"The safest place in this entire hole is going to be in the liquor store. Their windows were barred against alkies long before there were vampires running around." Francis shifted his load, trying not to show his exhaustion and the cramping sides from straining to correct the extra weight.

"I agree with Francis." Louis input from over Francis's shoulder.

"Ok." Zoey confirmed then lead them around the front of the liquor store two buildings down. To her great surprise it was still locked. All the windows were broken, but just like Francis assured, the bars held strong. "It's locked!"

"Allow me." Francis raised his shotgun with one arm and fired three times at the lock. Zoey jumped back and readied her weapon.

"What the hell, Francis!" She cried, "are you outside your damn _mind_?" The barred storm door swung open and the large steel door on the other side of it was unlocked. Whoever left was in a hurry.

"Don't need the outside one." He replied coolly.

The shrill roar of infected sounded nearby, alerted by the boom of the shotgun. A small group came screaming frantically around a corner looking for the dinner bell. Zoey and Francis raised their weapons and fired. With a grunt Louis freed himself, fell to the soft muddy ground, and began shooting in the other direction. When there were no more cries, they entered the store and locked the large steel door behind them.

Zoey helped Louis over to a chair behind the counter and sat him down on a stool. Francis remained at the door, looking out the small but broken window panes. If he looked hard enough, he thought he could make out a specter of Bill limping after them beneath the sheets of water, cursing them for getting too far ahead again. It was wishful thinking, but he preferred it to reality. In his mind the old buzzard was too stubborn to die. Disappointed yet again, his shoulders fell a bit.

Turning away from the door, he removed his vest and grumbled with frustration. He hoped the rain hadn't destroyed his favorite, best, last, and only vest. Only time and heat would tell if had been rendered to a stiff leather husk. Wringing it out, he walked over to a shelf and tried to hang it up. Smoothing out the wrinkles, he involuntarily shivered when he felt cold breath on the back of his shoulder.

"You're in my bubble, Louis."

"Oh shit! Francis, that's not _me!"_

"FRANCIS!" Zoey shrieked as she turned from helping Louis_._

Francis panicked and spun around to greet the half rotten face of a _very_ large infected, a few inches taller than himself. It must have been the store owner. "OH SHIT!" He yelled as the monster picked him up and threw him into the beer cooler. A shelf broke and bottles cascaded to the floor with him. He reached back to his belt for his pistol but it was empty; he had set down his weapons when he hung up his vest.

With a grunt he kicked the zombie back and jumped up to his feet; a couple wine bottles in hand. He charged at the creature with a roar, smashing both bottles to the sides of its head. It gurgled angrily, swiping Francis aside with a back hand. He slid across the wet floor into a heap in the corner. Standing between Francis and his weapons the creature considered him for a moment then snarled and charged.

As it was reaching back to strike a boom followed that concussed in the small store. The chest of the awful creature exploded in a bloody rain. Collapsing on top of Francis, it used its last breath to try and take a bite out of the healthy man's neck. Shoving it off with a disgusted snarl, Francis looked up to find the diminutive woman bearing his shotgun. She was uncharacteristically pale. The day's stresses had taken its toll.

"I-I'm sorry it took so l-long." She stuttered, cold body beginning to shake. "O-our clips were empty. I had to find your gun." Francis scrambled up; unnerved he had to see _that_ terror on her face for the second time that day.

"Hey...look! I'm fine!"

"Francis," She choked, breaths quickening. "We were so distracted that we didn't even think to secure this place! None of us! How are we going to do this without Bill? And then... then..." She lowered his shotgun and slumped to her knees as dry sobs and gasps racked her petite frame.

Looking around quickly for any more immediate threats, he knelt in front of her. "Zoey..."

"We almost lost you too, to a damned _common_ infected!" She cried, her sobs turning into dry heaves. Dropping the gun she leaned forward on her hands, her diaphragm rebelling against her.

"Francis, she's hyperventilating, make her breathe before she passes out." Louis warned from behind the counter. He had stood to help, but the journey had taken its toll on his already substantial leg injury. In his condition he would have only been a burden to Zoey as she acted to save Francis's life. It was growing too painful to even move, especially with the bacteria laden mud slopped in his wound. Head spinning with fever, he tried to steady himself on the counter.

"How!" Francis yelled flatly, not about to kid himself with some delusion of knowing how the hell to comfort the young woman. Louis rolled his eyes, Francis truly was an emotional idiot.

"Talk to her, rub her back, you know, be _soothing_!"

"_What! Soothing?_" Francis hissed, glaring back at Louis. "That's not exactly a _skill set_ I have!"

"YOU BETTER LEARN REAL DAMN QUICK!" Louis screamed, his head suddenly throbbing.

"This is Bill's job..." Francis mumbled under his breath, wondering how many of Bill's responsibilities were going to fall on his shoulders. Zoey's heaves turned into gasps, driving Francis to panic. "Dammit Zoey! Stop that!" Leaning in closely to her ear he pleaded with a whisper, "I don't know how to do this!"

"FRANCIS..._please!_" Louis yelled desperately.

Swallowing his dread, Francis leaned forward and pulled the small woman into his arms, clutched her tightly, and began to babble. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere. I'm too damn pretty to die." He muttered into her hair with a chuckle. Her arms clamped around his waist as she buried her face in his chest. Slowly, her sobs began to subside until they had ceased altogether.

After a minute he gently grabbed her hands and slowly removed them, bringing them back out front. Awkwardly he coughed and diverted his eyes away from her. "Do you have your head back on straight now? We still need to clear the rest of the building."

"Yeah...need my hands though."

He released her quickly. "I, uh, ok, let's go." He sputtered, picked up his shotgun and walked away. Zoey smiled momentarily before sighing and picking herself up. Francis came walking back stiffly and handed her his pistol. His sides knotted and cramped once the adrenaline wore off.

"I think there is a small apartment back there." He said and pulled a clip out of his belt pack then tossed it to Louis. "Just in case we scare anything out."

"Gladly." Louis took the clip and loaded his pistol.

Francis led the way back into the apartment tucked away within the store. It looked like the owner had resided there and had holed up in the building when the outbreak began. Somehow he had gotten bit, and judging by the way he was only able to lock the outside door, it didn't take more than a few minutes for him to turn.

The rest of the single level building was clear and all the windows and doors were barred shut. They couldn't have found a better shelter. While there were no lights on, Zoey was shocked to find the bathroom had hot water. "How?" She wondered.

"Most water heaters run on gas. It looks like he had a personal tank out there," Francis thought aloud. Pausing, a light went on in his head. "Actually, so do dryers...and furnaces... and stoves..."

"Woah, hold on a second. Are you telling me we might be able to have a hot meal, a hot shower, dry clothes, and a warm place to sleep?"

Francis donned a lopsided grin. "Are you telling me _we_ can share a shower?"

"I-I..." Zoey tripped on her words and shot a glare at him. "I gotta tell Louis." She ran out of the small apartment leaving Francis with his self satisfied amusement and relief. He didn't want to leave things between himself and her like they were on the floor. That would have been just plain awkward. He preferred it when women were disgusted with him as they were easier to keep at arm's length.

"FRANCIS!" Her voice pierced his skull, propelling him out into the store. Zoey was behind the counter, desperately trying to wake up their other companion. Louis lay prone on the floor, mumbling incoherently as sweat dripped down his face. "He's burning up!"

"I thought he was a carrier!" Francis yelled, but in his thoughts he was wondering what the hell they would do. Bill would know. Bill always knew.

"He is! Give me your knife." Francis pulled out his lucky charm, a folding buck knife. Zoey took it and cut the pant leg off at the thigh on Louis's left leg. When it was removed a sweet and rotten smell wafted up. Both turned their heads away. It was much worse than they thought. "Infection so fast?"

"If there was something in those witches' claws...who knows. Bitches probably tore apart hundreds of people with all kinds of nasty shit in their blood."

Zoey sat back, staring helplessly at Louis, wondering when the punches were going to end and they could tap out of the ring. "This day just gets better and better."

* * *

_Francis turned the white tube over in his hands with awe. Who knew some steel pipe, nails, common chemicals, and parts out of a smoke detector could be transformed into a bad ass zombie killing machine?_

_"Amazing isn't it?" The old man said with a grin. _

_"Well, yeah. I just can't believe Louis builds these things."_

_"Not just pipe bombs. It's like the world just talks to him. Every time we've been backed into a corner, up shit creek, or just plain stuck, he finds a way out. If something is broke, he can fix it. If you gave that guy a book on it, he could probably perform surgery on himself, or program a damn VCR. Hell, half the time he doesn't need a damn book."_

_"I see why you keep him around."_

_Bill snorted. "I'm happy he lets _me_ hang around. Of all the people who survived this damn zombie apocalypse, one happens to be a friggin' genius and it turns out he's a real nice guy." Bill laughed with disbelief. Francis grunted._

_"I could do with a little less sunshine and rainbows."_

_"Honestly, me too, but I'm not going to be the one to rain on his parade."_

* * *

Francis ran back into the apartment and dug through the medicine cabinet. He only found two bottles of pills and brought them both out. Handing them to Zoey he spun around looking for anything that could help, but there would be no doctors stocked on the shelves.

Zoey read the bottle. "My mom used to give me ibprophen when I was sick. It took down my fever."

"Do it, we need him thinking straight if we are going to fix this." Francis reasoned, pulling a warm bottle of water off the shelf. Zoey sat Louis up and tapped his cheek until he stirred.

"Zoey?" Louis asked, straining to open his eyes.

"You're really sick, Louis, you need to take these pills. Open up."

"What do you have?" His words were slow and heavy.

"Ibprophen."

"Ok, give me 800mg."

Francis opened the bottle and handed it to Louis. "We're going to need you to get out of this." He said seriously.

"I don't know, Francis."

"Don't you go negative-Nancy on us now, Louis." Zoey warned as he fell back into unconsciousness. "At the very least we can try and clean it." She said, looking up at Francis. "There's a bed back there."

Nodding, Francis reached down and easily hefted Louis up and headed back. Before standing, Zoey noticed the alarmingly large pool of blood that had been gathering on the floor. Lightning illuminated the store for a brief second, flashing off the glass of all the liquor bottles. The following thunder shook the entire structure. Clicking off the flashlight on her pistol, she jumped up and ran back into the apartment.

Francis was trying to set Louis up on a chair when she walked in, but he continued to slump over. He wasn't about to drop him in the dry sheets when he was still wringing wet. Zoey ran in, perceptive of Francis's intentions and started to undress Louis while he held him up- very happy he wasn't conscious for it. Surprisingly, Francis did not hesitate to assist her.

"I'll go as far as his skivvies. There are some things I don't want to know about him." He said blankly. Zoey nodded.

"Agreed."

Once he was down to his boxers, they loaded him into the bed and covered him with the blankets, leaving his greatly injured leg exposed. Francis jogged out to the store and snagged a bottle of _Everclear_. On returning Zoey gave him a sour look.

"Right now?"

"Mix it with water and clean his leg. There's nothing in the cabinet."

"The pain will kill him." She said incredulously.

"I get the feeling he won't put up much of a fight."

Zoey picked up a bucket and filled it with warm water, while Francis twisted the cap off the bottle. Taking a quick whiff of the open bottle he let out a reflexive cough.

"I'm pretty sure you can run a car with this shit." With a chuckle he took a long drag from the bottle then handed it to Zoey.

"You don't take shots of _Everclear_!" She shouted and slapped Francis leg with the wet rag.

"Blah, blah."

Face hardening, she pushed him hard nearly sending him flying back onto his backside. "Either help or GTFO." She said coldly, dumping half the bottle into the bucket. Dunking the rag, she pulled it back out and slowly laid the cloth on Louis's leg. He shifted in his sleep then settled again. With a relieved sigh, she continued cleansing the wound. They just needed Louis to wake up long enough to help them figure out what to do.

"GTFO?" Francis asked suddenly, having pondered it for a minute.

"It's college talk for 'get the fuck out'."

"Ha! I like it!" Slapping his leg, he waited for some sort of response from the young woman. She only focused on cleaning Louis's leg silently, patiently soaking up blood then wringing and rinsing the rag. The water in the bucket slowly darkened with each pass. When she finished she placed her hands on her thighs and sighed.

"What if he doesn't wake up?"

"You'll be stuck with me." Francis replied. His voice softened momentarily when he continued. "Look, he's not going anywhere, Zoey. When I was 15 my younger brother's leg was mauled by a couple raccoons. Like a moron he'd been screwing around with them during a trashcan raid. It got infected when he hid it from the foster lady and he fell into the same kind of fever."

Turning around, she sat on the ground and leaned against the bed. "How is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Well. I guess it's a bad example. We took him to the hospital and it turned out the coons gave him rabies, but in the end he was ok, I guess." He finished sheepishly. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she rested her chin on her arms folded in front of her. She allowed a small smile; at least he was _trying_ to be positive.

"You're a different duck."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're not normal."

"Is that ok?"

"I'm still trying to decide." She said in mock suspicion then sighed. "Bill liked you enough. You were the only person we came across after we picked up Louis who could keep up and wasn't... evil." She finished with a deep frown.

"Did something happen?"

"Almost, then Bill shot him. Old man once told me that the most terrifying monsters out there know right and wrong but choose to commit evil anyway." Locking eyes with him for the first time since she began talking, she smiled, disarming him. "That's how I knew you were ok... plus you have some mad zombie killing skills."

"And my father said I'd never amount to nothing." Francis smiled. She laughed softly.

"Can a man get some sleep?" Louis groaned from the bed.

"Sorry, Louis! We will be back in to check on you." Zoey apologized hopping to her feet. She walked to the door and Francis followed. Surfacing into consciousness for just that minute, Louis quickly slipped back under when the door closed behind them.

Out in the dark hallway Zoey and Francis stood around uncomfortably while the peels of lightning and thunder filled the silence. This was the first time they had ever truly been alone together and if Louis didn't pull out of it, it might be the state of things to come.

With an involuntary shiver she was suddenly very aware of the chill that soaked through her drenched clothing. "How do you feel about getting that furnace running while I shower?"

"Are you sure it's safe to shower alone?" Francis asked less than innocently.

"Oh lord, Francis. You are absolutely helpless against yourself, aren't you?" Turning her face away to hide a stubborn smirk, she pushed him down the hallway. "I want heat in here. I'll see you in about 20 minutes." He waved a hand in the air as he reached the end of the hall.

"Offer stands!" He called over his shoulder. "I'll take your silence as a maybe!"

Being stuck with him wouldn't be that bad if it came down to it. He was as entertaining as hell and full of shit and machismo. It was clear he cared for the well being of the group, but he took extraordinary measures to hide it. Whatever he had been through in life to shape the kind of man he became was something she didn't want to know. She knew her own life had dark spots here and there, but a man like Francis may only have a few light spots.

Stashing the thought for later she began digging through the apartment and found towels, some over sized t-shirts, and sweats. They didn't smell the best, but they were clean. Ever cautious, she let her pistol lead the way into each room. The last thing she wanted was to get jumped by an infected while she was in the shower like out of some cliché horror movie.

Locking the door after entering the bathroom, she sat on the commode with a heavy sigh and let the day's stress seep out of her. Setting the pistol on the counter, she removed her wet clothing. The items slopped as she dropped them in the sink with a few pumps of hand soap. All went well until she reached her jeans. They hung on her like monkeys on a vine. Skinny jeans looked great but when wet they may as well have been welded to her skin. Growling, she pushed and pulled on them until she lost balance and sprawled out on the floor. The thud brought Francis running.

"Zoey?"

"DON'T YOU DARE OPEN THAT DOOR!" She howled then rushed to compose herself as best as she could. "I'm fine! Just... slipped!"

She imagined the confusion on his face. "Ok?" There was a pause for a few seconds and she knew what was coming. "Can I-"

"No!" She yelled then covered her face, she was pretty sure this was the most horrifyingly humiliating moment she had suffered in years. With a deep breath she began fighting her way out of the offending garment.

Outside the door, Francis was nearly distraught with confusion as she began grunting and cursing. "Zoey?"

"FRANCISGOAWAY!" She shrieked. Without another word he walked away, preferring the thermostat to that door at the moment.

When she had finally freed herself, she threw the pants in the sink with a triumphant shout. Her cheer diminished quickly when she caught sight of her naked body in the mirror. What looked back at her was nearly alien. Her cheeks were sunken and there were deep circles beneath her eyes. Bruises and scratches mottled her body. Once shiny brown hair was matted and dull and her arms had grown hard and muscular from the weeks of handling large weapons. Peering down at her hands she noticed the hard callus and chipped nails.

It was a miracle Francis was compelled to shamelessly flirt with her at all. She looked like hell. Opening the cabinet she found a pair of clippers and straightened out her nail situation as best as she could on her fingers and toes. Placing the clippers on the counter, she dug for more utensils in the cabinet. Finding a pair of tweezers she removed any stray hairs on her brow and set them in a pile with the clippers. Her heart leapt when she came across some toothpaste. She also found a toothbrush that wasn't in bad shape. Scrubbing it with the hand soap she rinsed it then spent a good five minutes brushing her teeth. She placed the new acquisitions in the pile with a liberated container of dental floss.

Shivering, she decided she would continue the search for more useful items later. Walking over to the shower stall she flipped on the water and breathed deep as the hot steam rose up to her face. The cleansing was going to be heavenly.

Ten minutes later she emerged from the shower and to her great surprise the bathroom was warm. Francis had gotten the furnace up and running. Putting on the dry t shirt and sweats she almost felt human again. At the sink she combed her hair out, parted it to the left, and let it air dry. Filling up the sink with water she began scrubbing her clothing, trying her best to get rid of the dirt, the smell, and most of all, the blood.

When she emerged, Francis sat on the couch in the small living area taking stock of the remaining ammo he had rounded up from their packs. There wasn't much left. As the steam seeped out of the small room it brought the fresh and clean smell with it. He never thought he'd be so happy to smell soap... or use it. Closing his eyes he inhaled deeply.

"Zoey, if you used all the hot water I might have to throw you outside."

A towel hit him in the face, followed by a t shirt and a pair of men's athletic shorts.

"Don't forget to wash your clothes. And don't steal my new toothbrush."

"Already found one." He said waving three still packaged brushes in the air. She frowned deeply; of course there were some in the store.

"Dammit." She grumbled. "Get in there. You stink."

Francis disappeared into the bathroom for the next twenty minutes. Zoey let herself spread out on the couch with her blanket. It was a wonderful feeling to be able to relax on a soft couch in a warm building again. Closing her eyes she lightly dosed until the click of the bathroom door roused her.

When Francis emerged, he had the lot of their wet scrubbed clothing in his arms, a dark look plastered on his face. "I am NOT wearing that shirt."

She had never actually read or unfolded the shirt. He threw it back at her for inspection. Unfolding the offending garment, she couldn't hold back the laughter. In bold black letters surrounded by a pink heart were the words: "Love machine." She snickered. "Did you put it on before you noticed?"

"No!" His voice cracked.

"You did!" Zoey' accused, grinning at the very notion of Francis wearing the ridiculous thing. Holding the shirt before her, she shook her head. "This is just... awful..."

Francis walked down the hall in a huff, dropped the clothes in the dryer and returned to lean against the door frame with arms across his chest. Zoey was pleasantly surprised by the clean shave around his goatee. He had found the razor, lucky for him, the former owner of the residence was male. There was no trimmer in site, so his usual buzzed hair was starting to grow out a bit, but was still very short.

"What?" He asked, growing uncomfortable as she sat there silently examining him.

"Nothing." She said lightly, shaking her head. Once she had regrouped under his glare, she laid back into the couch and closed her eyes. "I almost feel normal." After a long deep breath she opened her eyes and looked over to him. Though partially hidden by his collection of tattoos, she could still make out the deep bruises and scratches scattered across his bare chest. "Do you need me to clean any of those cuts?"

Shaking his head he looked over his shoulder. "No. However, you know what _would_ make me feel normal?"

"Hmm?"

"There is a store of expensive ass liquor over there. I could use a drink."

"Francis," She began, raising a finger in the air to lecture him. "I am 20 years old. CLEARLY under the legal drinking age."

He snorted. "You're telling me you've been in school for two years and never been to a party?"

"No, I have been in school for one year after taking a year off. In this one year I have rarely been to class because I've been too busy partying."

Francis held out his hand to her. "Well then, shall we, big time college drop out?"

"What else can you do?" She shrugged futilely. "Also, I was only on my way to dropping out, hadn't succeeded yet."

"We got ourselves a high achiever."

"Only the best."

They walked up and down the aisles shopping the different brands and bottles. Francis gravitated towards the most expensive product, while Zoey just settled on what she knew. Before they walked back into the living area, Francis stopped by the fridge and pulled out a 6 pack of Carona. In the next cubby in the warm fridge were those plastic fruit shaped bottles with lemon or lime juice. Grabbing one he trotted back to the living area where Zoey was setting up some glasses and Coke cans.

Before he set up any of his own loot, he cracked open a bottle of the Carona and squirted a good amount of lime into the bottle.

"Eww, Francis, warm beer?" Zoey shuddered, sticking out her tongue.

Pausing he looked back at her, expressionless. "This isn't for me." Standing, he walked over to the window and cleared away a bunch of plastic nick-knacks and placed the bottle on the ledge. "Sorry it's not cold, old man." He said under his breath. Turning back he shrugged and lied. "Air freshener."

Zoey smiled warmly but didn't make it obvious she heard. Francis sat down next to her on the floor at the wooden coffee table she was setup on. She wanted to comment on how sweet his gesture was, but kept quiet on the matter.

"Shall we begin?" She asked, pouring some rum into a glass with warm Coke."Show me how to drink a badass biker man under the table." He knew that was impossible, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity for a great innuendo. Without missing a beat he grinned at her.

"I'll show you how to do more than that under the table."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Francis. Give it up." Zoey scolded and rolled her eyes, raising her glass for cheers.

* * *

A couple hours later, they sat side by side plastered to the couch in a stupor. Francis was good and buzzed, but Zoey, being the less experienced drinker and vastly smaller was drunk as a skunk.

The numbness was welcoming. She didn't feel pain, feelings, or anything really.

"Francis," She slurred slowly. "That's a fancy name."

"I'm a fancy kinda guy." He responded, raising his glass momentarily.

"Fr-an-cis." She rolled the word around in her mouth. A bottle of Bacardi rested at her side. She had started with rum and Coke until eventually she forgot all about the Coke... and the glass. "What does it mean?"

"Awesome in Latin?"

"You don't _know_! But I don't know if Zoey means anything either." She thought aloud then took another drag out of the liquor bottle. It tasted like water at that point. Her mind drifted aimlessly until she tripped over the memories of the day and she settled once again on Bill.

"Francis," She addressed him sadly. He looked to her, curious. "Bill's dead." She said as if she was trying to break the news to him. "He jumped off the bridge to save us. He shouldn't have done that. We really needed him." Finishing with a deep sigh, she took another drag off the rum bottle, closed her eyes, and nuzzled her face into the back of the couch. She mumbled once more. "Why did you let him die?"

He physically flinched.

He'd been trying to convince himself that there was nothing else he could have done, since the very moment Bill disappeared over the side of the halfway raised bridge. What was more concerning, did she really doubt his efforts? Did she hold him responsible? Did Louis?

He never been in a situation before in which he gave a shit what anyone, let alone a startlingly beautiful young woman said or thought of him. No long term girlfriends, or even friends for that matter had ever been able to get close enough to strike. There had never been a need for them anyway. It wasn't until that old man... _Bill._ That crotchety old fart. Francis had never despised anyone or respected anyone so much in his life.

Turning to her, he released a long slow breath and watched her face silently furrow in grief. She opened her eyes and caught his gaze when she felt him shifting.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, cracking her eyes open again. "I said too much."

"No. I just don't know how to say enough."

Zoey responded with a brief smile before shutting her eyes again. "I didn't think I could feel so strongly for someone I've only known for a few weeks. I miss him nearly as much as I miss..." She choked on her words a few times before she could finish. "Mom and Dad."

In a sense Francis understood her perfectly, but also not at all. His father may as well have been a sperm donor and his mother had lost him before he turned 15. After all of that he was an angry product the foster system unleashed on the world. He hoped she didn't take his relative silence wrong, because he literally had no clue what to say to her rambling. In his haggard life experiences he had acquired the charm of an eel and the social graces of an alligator. Even if he ever felt something soft and caring, he wouldn't even know how to verbalize it.

Yet, Francis knew what she thought of Bill, and for some incomprehensible reason, what she thought of him. Bill had been her surrogate father in those world ending days, and the beacon of light in the fog for everyone else. There was always a plan with Bill and as a result they were always moving towards some achievable goal...towards hope...life. The greatest problem they faced in the coming days was that they were directionless and dead in the water. Either they'd restructure and band together, or slowly fall apart until they were all dead.

The rain grew heavier on the tin roof of the old liquor store. In the small apartment it sounded like they were being barraged by small stones.

"Francis", she began again with her eyes fluttering open, surprisingly focused. She continued the meandering thought process of a drunk woman, any previous turmoil forgotten. "Why do you always jump in front of me when the horde attacks? We waste half of our health packs on you alone, dumbass."

"Why all the questions, woman?" He chuckled defensively. The answer was simple; Bill told him to protect her at all costs. The reality was not; he enjoyed it. It was nice being the hero for once, instead of some hired muscle.

"Francis."

"Because..." He fumbled for words and looked away. Frustration stopped him in his tracks and he retreated from the conversation. If she laid anymore emotional golden eggs on him he might lose his temper and start tearing the store up. Shoving it all on the back burner he placed his glass back on the table and stood. "You're shitfaced, Zoey. You won't remember anything I say. Get some rest." Running a hand through his hair he left quickly to get the clean clothing out of the machine.

He pulled the load out of the dryer and everything was dry aside from his vest which still hung out on the shelving in the store. After putting his boots back on he sat on a chair in the kitchen and cradled his head in his hands. Exhaustion threatened to drop him where he sat. If he didn't need to go check on Louis he would have just gone to sleep on the kitchen floor, not feeling up to anymore alcohol induced interrogation.

Walking lightly back down the hallway he peered into the living room to find Zoey out cold on the couch, facing the wall. Satisfied, he opened the door to the sleeping area and stepped in. Louis opened his eyes slowly with the click of the closing door. Francis was glad to note that the ripe and rotten smell had subsided a bit, but the exposed wounds still looked awful and most parts were still wet with fairly fresh blood.

"How are you?" Francis asked quietly from where he stood.

"Tired. In pain. I will need some more Ibprophen before morning... preferably a surgeon."

"It's on the night stand, but we're fresh out of doctors. Do you think you'll be able to do some planning tomorrow?"

"If the fever is at bay, yes."

"That leg..." Francis began.

"I smell it too." Louis confirmed with a grimace. "We will do what we have to when the time comes."

Francis nodded with understanding and turned for the door. "Get some sleep."

"Francis."

The tall man paused. "Yeah?"

"Don't let her sleep in a room by herself. You know what kind of shit can happen when you think you're safe."

"Yeah." He replied, less than thrilled. With a yawn, he the closed the door behind him. The blood froze in his veins when he saw the empty couch. "Gone for two damn seconds... _Zoey_?"

A retching noise drew him to the bathroom door. Twisting the handle he found it locked. "Of for fucks sake! _Zoey_!" He cried in exasperation and pointed his finger at the door. "So help me if you are hung over tomorrow! I swear I will-"

Cut off by an intense heave Francis rolled his eyes and broke the door in with his shoulder. He stopped at the threshold where he could see her misery as plain as day. She clung to the toilet while heaves racked her small body. There would be considerable pain in her abdomen tomorrow.

"I don't think your drinking lesson was very effective." She joked after a retching fit. He rolled his eyes and he kneeled next to her.

"_Dumbass_, you missed the part where I said _don't drink anymore_." He informed her flatly. Her hair stubbornly fell around her face so he reached over and held it back. He could smell the stomach acid. "How about a courtesy flush, Boomer?" She responded with a heave. Reaching up, he flushed the toilet himself. The fresh water in the bowl actually diminished her nausea a bit.

"Thanks. I think Mr. Bacardi and I should start seeing other people." She reached for some toilet paper and wiped her face, but her mouth and sinuses still burned. She collapsed back against the wall behind her. Francis handed her the bottled water from the counter, then he sat next to her silently, not feeling particularly chatty.

"You were right." She admitted tiredly.

"Usually am."

She grimaced and held her head. The room was spinning.

"I should have stopped drinking."

"I know." He responded shortly. "Now stop puking so we can get some rest."

Zoey closed her eyes and smiled widely, "Where're we gonna sleep?" She hinted suggestively, trying her best to fling an innuendo his way. It was weak and only served to draw an amused snort out of the large man.

"Princess, _you_ will sleep on the couch. I will be close by."

"How close?"

"Close enough to hear you breathe." Standing, he offered a hand and pulled Zoey to shaky feet. Proceeding to fall directly back to the ground Francis scooped her up before she could land in a heap. She laid her head in the crook of his neck as he carried her back out to the couch.

"I can hear you breathe, does that count?" Her words were slow and heavy as she fought off oblivion. "You smell pretty for a dude."

"You smell like vomit. I've never been more turned on." He replied flatly.

She giggled as he laid her to rest on the small sofa and draped the blanket over her. Not in a million years would he ever have fit on that couch, even alone. He would sleep in the same manner he had in the last weeks, leaning against a cold wall with a pistol in his hand, daring the darkness to move.

* * *

_Bill stood at the saferoom door, staring listlessly out at the bars and what was visible of the predawn skyline. He had decided to let the younger three sleep through the whole night. He never needed much sleep to function and that night, the pain wouldn't allow him any reprieve. On top of that, a foreboding feeling had been trailing him for a couple days._

_In Vietnam he remembered discussions with his friends about death. In order to function in the warzone, they had all accepted the fact that they were walking dead. It removed the fear from their work and kept them focused on the mission; the all important mission. Whether or not any of them believed in the war they were all dead set on completing their mission. _

_It was what kept them sane in the type of world in which the guerilla forces would strap explosives to young children and send them to blow up the enemy. They knew greatest weak spot of the American GI was children; always had been. Soldiers would risk their own lives for any child without a second thought as they would for their own platoon mates, it was the American way. Every baby was someone's baby. If you saw a vested child walking down the road in tears, you avoided it at all costs for yours and it's sake. Bill never thought he'd have experiences on that level ever again. Then the infection hit and he encountered his first few witches, crying sirens of death that sometimes wandered down the street. _

_With a sigh Bill leaned against the wall and briefly closed his eyes. The thing was, in Vietnam he had never felt like he was on the cutting block. Despite having accepted the fact that he was going to die there, he never felt the reaper peering over his shoulder. He did now. He felt boney fingers closing in around his heart, and it wasn't for fear of the zombies. His batteries were running critically low and with every day that passed he felt himself detaching from the world. It was nothing he was upset over because there was no fighting your time. It was just that now that his life was ending he found something worth living for, something worth protecting. He needed to be prepared; actually, he needed to prepare them for the inevitable. Now was the time. _

_Stealthily he moved over to Francis and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "We need to talk." He didn't leave room for discussion. His tone struck a chord in Francis and he followed Bill to the other side of the saferoom without question or complaint. He stood silently with his arms crossed, waiting for Bill to speak. Bill looked out the door again. _

"_I don't have long. In my lung there's a tumor the size of a baseball. The day the infection hit, they were going to cut out the whole lobe. It was a last resort. At the time, the doctor gave me a month without surgery. It's been two months since that prognosis."_

"_Shit, Bill."_

"_I'm overdue."_

"_Why are you telling me this? You should be telling Zoey."_

"_She is not going to know, ever, you hear? She'd take it on herself to save me. You three can't afford that. I am telling you for a reason. I feel the end coming, and it won't be the cancer that takes me out. I will go as long as I can, but when that moment comes, YOU need to be ready to keep them moving."_

"_Shit." Francis repeated, uncomfortable with the confession."Why me?"_

"_You're the only one that can clearly think on your feet when the shit hits the fan. I can tell by just looking at you that you know what it is to lose someone without having time to grieve."_

_Francis sighed. "I can't do that."_

"_Why?"_

"_I'm not exactly leadership material."_

"_Leading is not a skill, it's something you're born with. It's all about having a level head. That's why I picked you, and despite the dumbass act you play all the time, you're not as callous or stupid as you'd like them to think."_

"_They don't exactly appreciate my 'level head' when I'm out there."_

_Bill cracked a smile. "We're in the same boat. Difference is, I don't vocalize how much I enjoy blasting those damn things to kingdom come. In another life you were probably my son."_

_Francis froze momentarily, was that a compliment? His only response was a snort._

"_I know you care about them. The battle will be convincing them of the fact. If they believe it, they will follow you to the ends of the earth."_

_Francis sat on a crate with heavy shoulders. "I don't know. If I can't keep a goldfish alive Zoey and Louis are doomed." Bill sat next to him and placed his hand on Francis's arm._

"_Son, Zoey and Louis are both wildly useful. Just keep them safe. That's all, they'll do the rest."_

_Francis listened intently. Part of him took great pride in Bill's confidence despite his reflex to turn and run. He had never had something so precious placed in his care. _

_Bill frowned, creasing the wrinkles around his eyes, showing his true age. "One day, we will be watching the sunrise from the beach of our own island." Bill said wistfully._

_Francis shook his head then looked out the window again. The sunrise had begun and what little he could see was beautiful. He prayed the old man was right._


	3. Open Wounds

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone including lurkers and anonymous peeps for all the hits, was not expecting it! Special thanks to my reviewers and peeps that added this to fav stories, I hope I don't let you down :) Happy Friday! Enjoy this chapter, see you all in two weeks!

To see large poster and other story images visit: burnbuddy DOT deviantart DOT com (hyperlink in profile if you don't get it)

* * *

**Chapter 2: Open Wounds_  
_**

_Francis was convinced, actually he was positive, he was going to die. His travelling companions had fallen for the last time and he was left only with what he was carrying, which added up to an empty shotgun and pistol. Backed into a dead end alley, he swung the butt of the shotgun fiercely at anything that came within striking distance. Cracking the skull of one particularly ravenous infected, his gunlight shattered with a quick crunch. Eyes dilating when he was swallowed by darkness, he could only distinguish the oncoming horde by the grunts and awful glowing red eyes that he hated above all things._

_Strength draining quickly with each flail, he pushed out a desperate cry. If he was going to go down, it wouldn't be without a fight, he'd take as many of those damn vampires as he could. In the seconds before he resolved to charge forward a curious electronic beeping chirped above him, followed by the retreating streak of a small LED light. The infected suddenly, and thankfully, forgot all about him and in the same manner tween girls froth over a Bieber, the infected poured out of the alley and surrounded the seemingly innocuous blinking cylinder. _

_Curious he watched in stunned silence then jerked his head up to the source and spied three shadows standing on the grate of a fire escape. A match ignited, quickly flashing on the silhouettes of a young woman, a well dressed black man, and a gruff and grayed old vet._

_Unconcerned, he turned back to the frenzy just outside the alley way and watched in rapt fascination. From above two sets of hands grabbed his arms and frantically hoisted him up into the air. The two men threw him into a window of the building and quickly followed. _

_The woman yelled, "Get down!". Francis covered his head as the side of the building shook. _

_When the frenzy ceased and his ears were greeted by silence, he jumped up and looked out the window. The blast zone was still and littered with body parts._

_"That is the coolest thing I have ever seen!"_

_Behind him the old man walked up, grabbed his vest and spun him around. Without hesitation he menacingly poked an M16 into Francis's chest._

_"I am only interested in protecting me and mine," he said hiking a thumb in the direction of the other two. "We saved you for one reason. You are very large and pretty good with that shot gun. We could use you. What do you say?"_

* * *

The rays of the sunlight burned into the depths of her skull when she cracked her eyes open for the first time that morning. She was pretty sure there was a jackhammer and a marching band practicing in the space between her ears. With a loud distressed moan, she rolled over and the room spun wildly around her head.

"All year partying, huh?"

"Were you watching me sleep, Francis?" She groaned.

"What? No! Why the hell would I want to watch you snore and scratch your butt all morning? Get up and get dressed!"

Rolling back over and cursing into the couch cushion, Zoey left just enough space to be able to speak. Before she could open her mouth a quart sized plastic bottle was placed on the back of the couch before her. She whined loudly.

"Oh, come on, Francis! Purple flavor?" If they hadn't been in a well stocked liquor store full of soda and sports drinks, she would have been out of luck with her hangover... of course she wouldn't have drunk herself into oblivion either.

"All of it. Now." Francis ordered, a tinge of irritation in his voice. There was a lot of work to do that day and she needed to get back on her feet as soon as possible. Louis was already awake, fever temporarily at bay, strategizing their next moves. Unfortunately, those moves would not take them out of that one road shithole anytime soon.

"Slave driver." Her words were muffled, but still audible. Francis rolled his eyes, deciding to pass up the ripe opportunity for a nice juicy retort. It was no fun to pick on the impaired, most of the time anyway. He had already given Louis hell that morning for being a weenie, which actually seemed to put him in a better mood, saying something about not being that bad off if he was still healthy enough to berate.

"Yeah, yeah, just hurry up and get dressed, Princess, Louis has a plan. Your clothes are on the table with some gourmet-month-old beef jerky."

"Breakfast in bed. How sweet." She grumbled snidely. Standing, Francis wandered off down the hall to give her some privacy, but mostly so he wouldn't strangle her... and her smart little mouth.

As soon as Zoey was able to compose herself a short while later she and Francis gathered around the bed Louis had set up on with some maps, pens, and paper. It looked as if Louis had been up for a good hour or two laying preliminary plans for their unavoidably long journey.

"The good news," Louis began, rifling through a few sheets of paper, "Is that I have mapped out an escape route that takes you through areas of low population. Logically if there are no people to turn into zombies, there should be no zombies."

"You?" Zoey interrupted, "You mean _we_."

"Just hang on, Zo." Louis assured her. "I'm getting to that part." Turning back to the maps he showed the route they would take to get to the Florida coastline, commandeer a boat, and make a nice home on some empty island in the Keys. It was a modification to Bill's original plan but it held the same end goal. Suddenly quiet, he looked up to the both of them, fighting with a considerable amount of distress.

"I am telling you all of this in case we are unable or unsuccessful in amputating my lower leg."

Zoey closed her eyes tightly, fighting back the knot in her throat. Swallowing she put on a brave face for Louis's sake as he continued.

"I'm sure both of you can smell it. That witch had some nasty bacteria in her claws and she got me bad. If it's not gangrenous yet, it will be soon. When that happens, I'm dead anyway." He paused, wavering on his words, then continued. "I have drawn up a list of supplies, if you two are able to find them all, we just may be successful. When we were in Mercy Hospital, Bill found a book, a general doctor's procedure encyclopedia. I have been carrying it with me since then in my pack."

Francis's stone face softened momentarily. No wonder the old man thought Louis could perform surgery on himself; he gave him the damn book.

"If you two can find the supplies in time, we can probably make it happen. Based on what I've read, if we can get rid of this thing before my system turns septic, I have a fighting chance."

"Louie, if you die from a few scratches, I will bury you in a dress." Francis warned, knowing full well that the flesh on Louis's leg looked like hamburger. The witch had reduced his calf nearly to ribbons and he was pretty sure he could see bone in a couple places.

"Noted." Louis responded with a short smile. "The last thing I've done is written out the procedure in common English, just in case I fall back into delirium."

Zoey's brave face was faltering. "Louis...surgery? Amputation? Are you sure you want to trust Francis and I with such a huge task? No offense, Francis."

"I'm with you, Zoey. I ain't no damn doctor, hell, I've eaten more books than I've read." Francis agreed, unable to mask his anxiety with his self depreciating humor. Louis folded his hands in his lap and took a deep breath, knowing they were going to resist. They just needed a little push.

"I had my own reservations too, but then when I took a step back a couple things became very clear. One, there are no more doctors. Two, I've trusted you two wholly with my life up until now, so why stop? You both have the steady hands and steel resolve to kill infected, so this should be a walk in the park for you. If you have the supplies and clear instructions, you should be able to do it."

"You are still severely overestimating me." Francis said seriously. Neither Louis or Zoey had any immediate response for him and silence hung like a dark cloud until Louis spoke up again. There were really no other options. Either they helped, or he had to just lay down and die.

"So are you going to help me or what?"

Francis stepped forward. He wasn't going to say no, he was never going to say no when it came down to it. "Dammit, Louis, give me the list."

Pulling her hair back in a ponytail, Zoey feigned a large smile. "So, where do we start?"

Louis sighed, knowing he was in good hands whether or not they were skilled. They would do everything they could for him, for better or worse. Though he had already prepared himself for the worst just in case there was a bleed out... or not enough supplies, or it was just plain too late. For damn sure, he wasn't going to spend what might be his last conscious hours feeling sorry for himself or dragging them down. They had the list, the procedure, and if things turned south, they had the maps to guide them to their destination. Part of him was ok if that was his last contribution to his friends for he felt that if their safety was secured, the remaining hours of his life would not be squandered.

* * *

Zoey still felt disjointed when they ventured out into the wet but sunny streets. The purple Gatorade had refreshed and rebalanced her fairly well, but the awful taste served to make her a bit nauseated. When they had made their way to the front of the store, Zoey noticed the plethora of flavors available, making a mental note to be sure Francis paid later for the nauseating aftertaste she'd be burping up for hours.

"Seriously Zoey, I need the part of you that shoots zombies to _wake up_." Francis complained to her as they were about to strike out around a new corner. They had only encountered a few infected since leaving the safety of the liquor store, but you never knew when a small horde would be hiding behind the next door.

"Oh," Zoey responded, slapping her own cheeks a few times then sheepishly apologized. "Sorry."

"Next time I'll slap you myself... and it won't be on the face." His idle threat caught her by surprise and she sobered up when she caught his drift. The man knew how to keep her on her toes by one method or another.

"Wha- oh hell no."

"You've had your warning." He said with a serious nod then changed the subject as he peered back around the corner. "I see a mom'n'pop general store. If there is a pharmacy, it's in there."

Zoey groaned internally. "Great. Stores are also preferred infected lurking places."

"We can't throw a pipe bomb or a molotov in there or we might damage the goods." Francis thought aloud.

"I just hope there's something useful left. If it's anything like the stores in the city, it's picked over already." Zoey added, peering around the corner kneeling below Francis. She gripped the hunting rifle they had found in the apartment and trained it on the broken front windows of the building. Through her scope she didn't see any movement, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be anything in there.

"Just..." He looked down to her and uncomfortably cleared his throat. "There are only two of us. Don't go getting killed on me."

Keeping her eye in the lens, she suppressed a smile. "And let you operate on Louis alone? Unlikely. If I die, you might as well just shoot him."

"That's what I'm _saying_!" Francis emphasized uncomfortably, "Bill would come back from the dead just to kick my ass if I lost the two of you within 24 hours of his passing. I mean, he keeps you alive for a month and I lose you in less than a day? I don't think so."

"You really don't think Bill could-"

"Yes. Yes I do. If there is a way to come back from the dead for the singular purpose of sticking a boot up my ass, he will find it."

Zoey laughed heartily and Francis covered her mouth, quickly muffling her. Cursing herself when she saw the panic in his eyes as he looked over to the store, she jumped to her feet and readied her weapon. Maybe Bill needed to come back and stick a boot up her ass too.

Without warning Francis reached out and flattened her against the wall next to him when a small stream of infected came pouring out of the store in search of the source of the laughter. In a frenzy they began running in circles. He looked back at her with an apologetic frown and released her.

"Kneel again and start picking them off. When they figure out where we are, I will throw a pipe bomb down away from the store." He whispered. Kneeling down next to his thighs she pulled up the rifle and began skeet shooting them one by one. By the time she had reached the tenth snipe, Francis had readied the bomb.

They started running in their direction when Francis jumped out and with a hard toss sent the bomb bouncing down the street. Enchanted by the beeping they raced after it. Stepping back into the alleyway, Francis stood next to Zoey, watching intently as the crowd stomped and struck out violently at the white cylinder. A few more infected had come out of different doors to join in the blast party, but within seconds the spectacle had ended in a shower of rotten body parts.

"That's one way to do it." Francis shrugged. "Let's go clean that store out."

They trotted quickly but carefully over to the store and entered the building with haste. Pausing by the doors they trained their weapons forward as they scanned the aisles. Stepping methodically sideways as they checked the rows of shelves one by one they had determined the store, or what was once a store, to be empty. If they made too much noise it wouldn't be for long, but they had very little interest in hanging out. The smell of rotting meat from the deli was nearly unbearable.

Back towards the small pharmacy they found one confused infected behind the counter. Based on the clothing and empty bottles scattered on the floor, it was probably an addict during human life. Unceremoniously, Francis put it out of its misery.

"Oh hell." Zoey sighed dejectedly.

There weren't just empty bottles on the floor, most of the full bottles were scattered across the tiles as well. The shelves had either been cleared out during the addict's crazed high or by someone (or something) else. Jumping over the counter she began to examine the containers. Anything that had once contained painkillers was empty

"This is not looking good." She said, scanning the shelves. "I can find pill antibiotics... but nothing for pain. No syringes, no IV bags... nothing that's really on the list." Frustrated, she sat on a stool and continued to scan bottles. "Hopefully we can find a medical clinic."

"Well, grab what's useful and let's get out."

Pulling bottles into her pack she claimed a few different brands of antibiotics, some first aid items from the main part of the store, and some personal hygiene products that would be difficult to obtain if they were to stay away from civilization as was detailed in Louis's escape plan. Since it was a general store there were a few things that those desperately in a hurry wouldn't grab, like socks, some clean albeit awful styles of underwear, and some souvenir pocket knives.

Finishing stuffing her bag she paused at one last souvenir rack. The usual suspects were present like postcards from Hershey Park, some Pirate's shirts, and Liberty Bell key chains. She wondered if those things would ever mean anything again. Last was a hat made to look like Punxsutawney Phil, the immortal shadow fearing groundhog. Pulling it off the rack she put it in her bag and ran after Francis. Of all the movies she watched during her illustrious college career of ditching class most were zombie movies, but every now and then she'd throw in a Bill Murray comedy. Groundhog Day was her favorite.

He noticed her new acquisition and frowned. "At least Bill Murray got to wake up."

Scoping their surroundings they exited the general store and stealthily made their way down the street. Most of the buildings were empty offices of lawyers, real estate companies, a multitude of antique stores, bars, and crappy cafes. Nearing the end of the street at the end of town they found a doctor's office.

The clinic appeared to be in the same state as the pharmacy. Nearly everything had been gutted and the only sign of drugs or supplies were in pieces on the ground. It wasn't exactly full clinic either. Clearly, the office was around just to do checkups on kids and refer people out to the big city hospital... like Mercy. The thought made Zoey ill. How many people were referred out to Mercy with a bad flu to never return? Walking carefully through the empty building they exited very disappointed and empty handed.

Francis's powerlessness was beginning to overwhelm him. They needed so much more to help Louis and all they had were a few pills.

"Fucking addicts." He cursed under his breath as he sat on the steps of the building, running his hands through his buzzed hair as his anger escalated. "Fucking useless hick town hospital!"

Zoey sat next to him. Her shoulders were beginning to feel heavy. They weren't just unsuccessful, they were practically empty handed and the clock continued to wind down for Louis.

"We got jack squat." Zoey concluded softly, peering into her sack.

On the red line, Francis grabbed a fist sized piece of concrete from the crumbling steps and winged it across the street at a car.

He immediately regretted his decision when the car alarm wailed on impact. Both of their eyes widened, waiting for the horde to appear, but there was nothing. Small towns had small amounts of zombies, which was good, but it seemed strange to them that there was _nothing_.

Breathing with heavy relief Zoey relaxed her shoulders, but it was too soon.

Sailing silently through the air like a missile a small car suddenly crashed into the one with the alarm, then the ground began to shake.

"No!" Zoey hissed, beginning to tremble. Of all the damn infected and special infected in the world, it had to be THAT. Francis pulled her back into the doctor's office and they hid behind the wall, peeking out the window. His heart lodged in his throat and his face burned with humiliation. It was a dumb, dangerous move he pulled. If they made it out alive they would be lucky; two people versus a tank was skirting the edge of plausible.

The tank bounded into view and began pounding on the pile of vehicles. It twisted and pummeled the steel frames like tin foil with its gargantuan arms. The survivors prayed it would not detect their presence. In an ideal world it would forget what it was doing and walk out of town forever but they knew better. Based on recent events Zoey had concluded it was actually a shitty world and it would only be a matter of time before it sniffed them out.

"I'm sorry, Zoey. Just, yeah, sorry." Francis confessed earnestly. Looking over to him with a raised eyebrow, she smiled cryptically.

"Save that sorry for later, big man." She breathed, reaching back to her belt. Tossing him a sympathetic smile she pulled out the molotov she had assembled before they left the liquor store. Smile slowly growing as she lit the bottle, he forgot just how good she was at lighting shit on fire... and how much the pyro enjoyed it. All because of that they had a chance. She heaved the fire bomb out the window with a grunt and ducked back behind the wall.

The pained howl alerted them to the direct hit. Running up and down the street looking for his attackers, the tank began smashing the fronts of buildings. Francis and Zoey sprinted to the back of the building and up the staircase to the second story residence. The floor and walls shook as the tank crashed into the next building. Shutting the door quickly behind them, they ran and sat against a wall. Zoey held her breath as everything went silent. A few seconds passed when she looked to Francis.

"You think he's down?" She whispered, but as the last word escaped her mouth the door exploded off the hinges and the burning abomination lurched through. Francis pulled up his automatic shotgun and fired off almost all ten shots into the beast. Across the room the tank flung a dresser at them with snarl. Francis was struck and knocked to the side. Shaking, Zoey brought up the hunting rifle and began emptying the 15 round clip into the mountain of flesh, trying to hold steady as the recoil battered her shoulder and made aiming nearly impossible. Momentarily phased, the tank paused when the final round burned into its mangled chest. Then it began to charge.

Throat seizing at the sound of the click signifying an empty chamber, she picked up Francis's shot gun and pointed it at the beast. As she began to pull the trigger something thrust into and blocked her field of vision. There was a flash of red, the boom of the final round of the shotgun, and then silence as everything stopped moving and fell to the ground. Dropping the weapon she jumped to her feet. First she looked to the burning tank where a fireman's axe was buried deep into its skull, splitting it in half. Before it was her savior, squirming with eyes clenched shut as he grunted in excruciating pain. Blood streamed down the back of his left arm from a fresh gunshot wound. The sickening horror hit her fast. She did it; she _shot him_!

"Oh shit! Francis!"

She noted quickly that there was no significant amount of flesh missing from his arm. It appeared that she just winged him, but that didn't make it look any less painful, or bleed any less. A sudden familiar roar echoed through the window. Now that the tank lay dead at their feet the horde felt it was safe to emerge.

"Come on now! Get up! We need to go!"

Throwing his good arm around her shoulder, she pulled him to his feet then kicked out the window and together they climbed out to the roof. A small platoon of infected was streaming down the road in a bee line for the building they currently stood atop.

"The building next door is boarded up completely. Maybe we can get in through the roof." Francis suggested through pained grunts. Thankfully it was very close and with minimal effort they jumped over to the roof. It had been converted into a small picnic area with a table and what were now dead plants. They found a small door hatch and entered it quickly, pistols raised. Locking the steel roof door behind them, they made their way carefully down the flight of stairs.

Everything was dark. The windows had been boarded up from the outside with sheet metal and the purpose of the building was unrecognizable from the street. Flicking on their pistol lights as they descended the stairs they came out into a small hallway with several doors on each side and what looked like a reception area at the end. They could see a desk and benches, as well as various pictures of animals adorning the walls. Checking each small room on the way down the hall for life, they were pleasantly surprised to find nothing... and everything.

The building was completely void of life, which was great, but it was for another reason Zoey felt herself growing more excited as they checked each room.

"_Francis!_" She whispered animatedly, adrenaline surging as she reached the front of the building, marking it clear. Knowing he saw what she did, she grabbed his arms and jumped in excitement.

"It's an animal hospital." He responded in disbelief, forgetting his own pain for the minute.

They had hit the jackpot. Not a single paper, needle, or drug had been removed from within the walls. Based on the warning papers and posters posted everywhere, they had quarantined the place and boarded it up back when they thought the infection had originated from and was spread by animals.

Opening her mouth to speak, he raised a finger to his own and motioned for her to remain quiet when frantic footsteps began scurrying outside the sheet metal covered windows. Quickly they moved back behind the reception desk and sat against the cabinets, praying they were hidden from those out front and that none of the infected would think to jump on and explore the roof.

Nearly twenty minutes passed pregnant with fear and anxiety. No further scrambling echoed from the roof and the front porch full of frothing infected seemed to forget their target and wander off. Staying on the side of caution they kept their conversation down to a whisper. Francis was beginning to tremble as the adrenaline and endorphins released by the shock of his wound were wearing off.

"Hey..." Zoey began, noticing the effort he was taking to hide his pain. "Let's go take a look at that."

She helped him up by his good arm, seeing the caked blood left on the cabinet door when he made it to his feet. "Zoey..."

"Yeah?"

"Why the hell did you shoot me?"

"You jumped in front of me!"

She flushed red with embarrassment as she led him down to the back lab room. He sat reversed in a rolling office chair with his chest pressed against the backrest. Rifling through the drawers and cabinets of the lab she was nearly giddy at the sight and quantity of all the sterile supplies. Though meant for animals, they would be sufficient for what they needed them to do here, and with Louis.

She filled some irrigation bottles with the sterile liquid, gathered a bowl, tweezers, gauze, a suture kit, and mounds of dressing. Dropping everything next to Francis on the long stainless steel island in the middle of the room, she turned to face him.

"First off, I am _so_ sorry."

He glanced up at her momentarily and grunted. His chin rested on his crossed arms, which he perched on the back of the chair.

"It's the thanks I get killing a tank for you."

"Second, I need to take off your shirt and vest."

He sat up with a clenched jaw and began to shrug the vest off. Zoey stepped in to help slide it off. When she began peeling the fabric from his wound he suppressed a yelp.

"Quickly please." The urgency in his voice made her neck hairs stand on end.

Swallowing hard, she ripped the vest the rest of the way off with one smooth yank. He fell forward, and she thought for a split second she was going to have to pick him up off the floor. Steadying himself on the chair he breathed heavily, sweat beginning to pour down his face.

"I'm sorry..." She mumbled with her eyes downcast. Taking a look at the vest as she held it out before her, she was relieved to see that only a few inches of fabric were missing, possibly imbedded in the wound. Setting it on the steel counter she came back to him. "I think I may have to cut the shirt off of you."

"You..." He chuckled through clenched teeth, "Won't be able to keep your hands off me if I run around half naked."

Zoey smiled. "I certainly can't stitch you up with my mind." If he was able to flirt through the pain it gave her hope.

Pulling out the surgical scissors she cut the shirt in two places and removed the piece from his unwounded right side. Then with another smooth yank she removed a piece from his left side. A muffled cry escaped as he keeled over the chair while the room spun around him. Zoey grabbed his good arm to make sure he didn't fall. Once he steadied, she examined the shirt glad to find that no fabric was missing. The racer back had curved nicely around the blast area. Unfortunately it was a waste of a perfectly good shirt, but she wasn't exactly upset about it... he did have a spare back at the liquor store... no other reason...

"I saw on a cable crime show that if you shoot someone at close range with a full barreled shotgun the pellets haven't sped up or spread apart enough to cause the maximum amount of damage. It's why sawed off shotguns are so effective."

"If you're saying I can shoot you as long as I do it real close, I'm ok with that."

Zoey leaned in to examine the torn flesh with the gun light. Realizing that the caked blood was really preventing a good inspection, she picked up one of the irrigation bottles and began rinsing the wound. She was relieved that she could not see any bone, but the holes made by the buckshot were still pretty deep, and she would have to try her best to dig the small pellets out.

Francis's hands were beginning to shake. The pain was nearing an unbearable threshold as she began patting away the blood with sterile gauze.

"Can you at least shoot me up with something?" He practically begged.

"I don't want to OD you."

"Fine, pistol whip me and knock me out then! I'm halfway there as it is!"

With a frustrated sigh she went back to the cabinets and started looking around. If Louis was there, it wouldn't be an issue, but the last thing she needed at the moment was to accidentally overdose him with pain killers.

"What's that crap they use to shoot in your gums to fill a cavity?"

Zoey paused momentarily in thought. "Novocain?"

"Yeah. Find that."

Not willing to tell him that he might not be able to find it, she stumbled on something else, possibly better. Lidocain.

"I remember this stuff. They shot it in me when I sliced my hand open on a kitchen knife." She unwrapped a syringe, stuck it in the bottle and filled it up, sure that there were no bubbles in it like they did on tv. "Well, ok, here we go." She began injecting small amounts into the skin at various areas around the wound. It stung at first, but slowly numbness seeped over the pain. Just when he was starting to feel relief, he went to move his left hand and got no response.

Eyes wide, he looked up at Zoey. The seeping numbness was creeping over his chest, and soon he was unable to feel the upper half of his left side and it was progressing toward his mouth.

"Zoey!"

"Don't give me that Francis! I told you it was a bad idea!"

"Thith ith fanthasthic. Therths no pthain!" He tapped his mouth with his right hand.

Pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes, she suppressed a giggle fit. He was practically giddy.

"Come on, thart diggin thath thit out."

Wiping away some blood she tentatively started poking around with the tweezers. There were definite indentations where buckshot had pierced the skin. In the center of the wound was the largest and deepest lesion. Spraying the irrigation bottle she revealed the edge of a piece of leather. She pulled on it firmly with the tweezers and it slopped out with a few pellets. Setting it on the table, she flattened it out and compared it to the missing shape in the vest. It looked like she had gotten all of it.

Going back to his shoulder she continued picking buckshot out of the various holes. Francis seemed nearly agreeable as she needled away at the wound. He counted the pellets as they fell in the metal dish.

"Thath a lot. I thoughth you justh winged me?"

"There's like a hundred pellets in a single shotgun round. Just be happy you didn't load the slugs today or I'd be picking chunks of your arm off the ceiling."

Satisfied she had gotten most of the buckshot out, she rinsed the wound again. With most of the blood washed away it didn't look so terrible anymore. However, the largest wound could not be closed by stitches or staples. It would have to heal open. She set to work on the smaller holes with the dissolvable thread, noting grimly that this was good practice for the job ahead of them. When she finished applying the dressings to cover all the wounds, she tossed the used up supplies in a trashcan and wondered if that can would ever get taken out. Francis remained leaning forward on the back of the chair. He had propped up his numb arm and was resting his head on it.

She had spent a good hour and a half working on him when she finally cleaned and applied a cover bandage. Slowly the Lidocain was beginning to recede from his face.

"How are you doing, numb tongue?"

"Alive." He responded slowly. "It's not going to feel so greath when the drugs wear off... because you shoth me."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" She groaned and jumped up on the counter to have a seat. Francis turned his head to face her and was momentarily tripped up by the amount of blood on her hands and clothing. She looked horrifying. There were even splotches on her face where she had brushed her bangs away. The worst part was that it was _his_ blood.

"Depends if I live, I guess."

The comment struck a chord with her and she looked away from him, her shoulders slumping. He mentally kicked himself.

"Zoey. I already told you I'm not going to die. I'm too pretty."

Zoey smiled and caught his eyes when she turned back. "Your tattoos aren't going to be so pretty anymore."

"It's alright. That shoulder had the name of my ex-girlfriend. You probably wouldn't believe this but she tried to shoot me too. So I guess you actually did me a favor."

Slipping back off the counter, she walked over to his back and gently poked in a few different places.

"How long do you think it will be before you can move again?"

"Maybe an hour. I can shoot with my right arm."

"Ok, in the meantime, I am going to pack everything on the list, maybe a bit more."

She pulled out the list and started stuffing both their packs with as much as they could hold. From his seat, Francis watched her move about, trying not to focus on the pain erupting as the numbing agent receded. In an hour they would set out for the liquor store, and that was just the beginning of their evening.

"Oh hey!" Zoey said suddenly, breaking his train of thought. "Penicillin." Without contemplating whether or not he wanted any, she loaded up a syringe with the amount for '2 large dogs' and stuck it in his arm. He stifled a yelp. "This should help somehow."

"Thanks Doc." He responded through clenched teeth.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this doctor thing."

"I think you should work on your bedside manner...thing." He whined, rubbing his arm.

Zoey's face twisted into an evil smile. FINALLY she had her opening. "Awww, am I too rough for you, Francis?" She rubbed his arm firmly where she injected him and he bit his cheek, glaring over his shoulder at her. She playfully returned his stare. "Don't look at me like that. You started this back and forth shit."

"Fine." In an instant he pushed off the island with his foot and spun the chair around. His arm ripped out of her grasp and before she knew what was happening his good arm had ensnared her waist. Picking up her up with no effort, as he was a foot taller and nearly a hundred pounds heavier, he dropped her face down on the floor and immediately straddled and lightly sat on her back. She kicked, punched and squirmed, trying to free herself, but unless he relented, she wasn't going anywhere.

Part of her was terrified, the rest of her couldn't contain the laughter boiling up from her stomach.

"This is what you get for calling my manliness into question... and shooting me." He said simply, examining the patch job she performed. It was well done. Bill had taught them all field medical procedures while they were on the run and she was particularly gifted with her tiny nimble hands.

"Francis!" She squealed, trying to gain some sort of leverage. She was starting to lose her breath from struggling under his massive weight. Noticing her gasping, he let up a bit. Seizing her window of opportunity, she spun around kicked up her legs and wrapped them around his waist. He regretted his mercy instantaneously as his back impacted with the hard floor. His eyes watered with the pain and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out. She jumped on his chest and triumphantly threw her hands in the air.

"Iron Fist hammers out justice!"

He looked up at her skeptically with a raised eyebrow. "Seriously? Iron Fist? Major Pain is the king." Zoey grinned without a response. Francis's feigned disgust dissipated into what could have been confused with a downright personable smirk. As the seconds pass he quickly grew uncomfortable and his eyes darted left and right before he cleared his throat.

"I, uh, Zoey..." He sat up easily and she slid to his lap, ending up nose to nose with him. After an awkward moment they stumbled apart and climbed to their feet.

"I, yeah, better get these bags packed." Zoey mumbled, continuing to raid supplies. Francis turned away and walked to the other side of the room.

"Yeah, I gotta start moving this thing." He replied, working on flexing his hand and arm.

After a few minutes past Zoey turned around, wanting to clear the very thick air. "Really? Major Pain? He has like four baby mamas."

Relieved, he spun around. "Please! Bro's my hero! He saves, like, an orphanage a week!" He finished with a grand swipe of his arm.

"Evil orphanages." She reasoned, returning to work, happy the air was clear. She was happy to argue the finer points of professional wresting soap operas because she really didn't want to think about the night they had ahead of them.

* * *

They struck out of the building quietly. Making their way back out the way they entered they climbed to the roof of the vet clinic. Sneaking up to the ledge of the roof they peered over to check out the street. The setting sun cast long shadows, making the infected wandering about look more like demons than people.

"I think a good pipe bomb should clear the path well enough. You?" Francis asked quietly.

"Yeah, then I'll see what I can pick off." While Francis turned around to pull the last pipe bomb out of the bag, Zoey peered down the street through the scope. Thankfully nothing was gathering around the liquor store. She hoped Louis was still conscious at that point, really not wanting to start the procedure without a bit more guidance than his written direction.

With a click Francis lit the pipe bomb with Zoey's new Zippo. He enabled the beeping then gave the bomb a toss into the street. About 15 infected emerged and surrounded the bomb. The number seemed low so they would be extra careful as they made their way through the building next door and down the street.

Stepping through the broken window Zoey had kicked out earlier, they were greeted by a gruesome sight. An enormous ravaged carcass was all that remained of the burnt tank.

"They _ate_ it?" Zoey gaped. Francis aimed his gunlight around the room.

"Feeding frenzy." He agreed, noting the eaten carcasses of some other infected. "This is why they didn't come after us. They've been starving to death since the last humans left here weeks ago. Resorted to eating each other."

"And we served them a cooked feast." Zoey said disgusted. Her stomach turned at the thought.

Stepping over the remains, Francis aimed his shotgun down the stairs as he descended. Zoey followed closely behind him, checking over her shoulder periodically. When they reached the main level, there were one or two infected that were easy enough to pick off.

Stealthily exiting the door, they made their way quickly down the street. They only checked doorways for a split second as they trotted by, not wanting to start any incidents with any infected minding their own business. Coming upon the liquor store they took extra care and caution. Treading lightly they were wary of all shadows and motion in the scenery.

Zoey's ears twitched when a high pitched scream sounded above. Francis shifted his gun to the sky, but something felt wrong. It felt more like the sound had bounced. Whipping her rifle to attention she peered anxiously into a dark alleyway just in time to see the flash of two red eyes before the shadow jumped out at her. Squeezing off a shot, panic overwhelmed her when she missed. Before she could pull her eye out of the scope, she was pushed hard to the side, landing against the hard wall. Francis surged forward and using his shot gun like a club he smashed the hunter to the ground. Turning quickly back to Zoey, he didn't see it get back up.

Zoey had. She squeezed off one more shot, dropping the acrobatic zombie. Scrambling back up to her feet, she shot Francis a hard glare then entered the liquor store. He followed and she locked the door behind them. Seething she grabbed his vest and pushed him back into a wall as hard as she could.

"What is wrong with you! Do you not trust me to pull my own weight? The first time today you jumped in front of me I _shot_ you! You were lucky I didn't kill you the second time! If we are going to make it through this alive you need to trust me!"

Francis was not one for being scolded or yelled at. He instantly knew he was going to regret what he said, but his temper got the best of him. Stepping forward he towered over her and pointed a finger in her face.

"I have never trusted a woman to do a damn thing in my life and I have no reason to start now! You think just because you carry a gun that you're tough enough, _but you're not_! You're still just a helpless little girl that needs to cling to men to survive! I tell you what, _Princess,_ without Bill here to save your ass someone needed to step up and I'm sorry already!"

Under his fiery gaze she felt like she was about three inches tall but she didn't let it show. "I don't want your help!" She hissed. Face twisting, she shoved her gun into his arms and stormed off. She wasn't about to let him see her cry. That was truly the first time since the infection began she felt utterly and completely alone.

"Dammit!" Francis yelled, slamming her rifle on the counter. He knew her complaint was completely legitimate, but in his mind It was all about those two and it was his job to keep them alive. _He_ was the expendable one. So she could shoot him all she wanted, no harm would come to her or Louis as long as his heart still beat in his chest.

"Francis!" Zoey cried out in terror. Panic gripped him as he sprinted back to her, heart dropping to his stomach when he saw the open door to the bedroom. Turning the corner and nearly slipping to the floor he froze at the sight.

Zoey's face was wet as she held Louis's hand in her own while he labored for air. He had fallen back into unconscious delirium. On the floor by her side was a piece of paper with his handwriting.

Looking up to him she wiped her face and with a voice she didn't know she possessed she began barking orders. Throwing open the book to the marked page she began to read furiously as she spoke.

"We need those bags now! Bring towels, water, and high proof alcohol!"

Francis nodded and tore out of the room. There would be no time to practice or setup. It was go time.

Setting Louis's hand gently on the bed, she picked up the letter and quickly read it again.

_Dear Francis and Zoey,_

_You haven't yet returned so I wanted to make sure you were able to read my last words if I were to expire before you arrived or during the procedure. The fever is returning quickly. I have gone over the procedure a few times and it seems solid. With the highest conviction I believe you two will be able to bring me back from the edge. _

_I am sorry if I won't be there to live in that island paradise with you. Don't worry, I am not frightened. If I am reunited with Bill I will be sure to register your complaints about leaving us behind. _

_Take care of each other._

_Louis_

"You're not going anywhere, Louis. I'll never forgive you if you leave me with that ass." She warned the prone man, squeezing his hand.

Francis rushed back in with all the supplies.

"Ready?"

Zoey nodded and removed her jacket.

"Let's do this."


	4. Sutures

Author's Note: About time and dates and places. This game was released in 2008, so that is my starting point for current time for the survivors, even though L4D2 wasn't released until 2009, which I am still counting as canon. If you take a moment to study Francis's tattoos, he has a date tattooed 6-29-72, which I am assuming is his birthday. 1972-2008= 36 years. Honestly I gave Zoey a couple more years than most because she is a total lazy butt in the comic and doesn't seem like she would even enroll in school unless someone like her mom did it for her, nagging her after a "year off" during which she still was trying to cope with her parents split. Traditional college kids turn 20 in sophomore year, so would Zoey in freshman.

Also, couldn't wait til midnight to post, too tired :)

Poster and art location: burnbuddy dot deviantart dot com

* * *

**Chapter 3: Sutures**

_"Quit laughing, you old fart!"_

_"I will when it stops being funny!"_

_Zoey and Louis snickered from well across the saferoom, maintaining their distance for the sake of their own noses. Francis sat on an office chair with a towel wrapped around his hips as his clothes soaked in a bucket. He had scrubbed his skin for a good thirty minutes to get that blasted rotting smell out, but only partially succeeded. _

_Zoey and Louis had both been in that same situation on several occasions, but neither had committed such an atrocious amount of whining and complaining._

_"I hate boomers." Francis mumbled, poking the contents of the bucket with a broom handle._

_Zoey crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. "Is that really the first time you've been puked on?"_

_"No, but it was the first time people stuck around for it."_

_Taking a long drag to finish off his cigarette Bill put out the butt by smashing it into the cinderblock wall. Zoey and Louis began having animated conversation about their own bile bomb memories. The old man pulled up a bucket next to the humiliated man and asked a question under his breath._

_"Is that why you tore off down the hall, son?"_

_Francis remained silent, churning the slop of fabric, water, and soap like butter. He wasn't about to tell Bill he'd been left as live bait on more than one occasion, he was humiliated enough. _

_Grunting, Bill leaned forward._

_"You don't know me yet, so I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. I've allowed you to be the third thorn in my ass for over a week. You're one of us now and we ain't gonna leave you behind."_

_"You must be trying to die with stupid ass ideas like that." Francis grumbled and continued poking at the soaking garments. He wanted to believe it, but he had been told similar things before. He ultimately had no intention of waiting around to be used as horde bait for anyone, even if they had stuck around this one time._

_"When you give two shits about the people around you, you're less likely to end up on your own or dead. Even you know there's strength in numbers."_

_"What are you saying?" Francis accused and paused, realizing just how intensely Bill had been shining the spotlight on him. The old buzzard had been paying very close attention to him just like he promised from the get go, and it appeared his vetting process had continued. He was hoping Bill hadn't noticed it earlier, but seeing as the old man had eyes on all sides of his head, he was less than surprised when he opened his mouth again._

_"You like them already. If you didn't, you'd let her have it. It was brave, what you did. Stupid, but brave." _

_"You're delusional. I tripped and she was in my way." _

_Bill smirked and shook his head. "Just like when you tripped and shoved Louis out of that smoker's path?"_

_Francis remained silent, deciding not to answer anymore. He'd just dig a deeper hole he couldn't climb out of. _

_"I don't blame you on either account. He's too damn nice and she's too likable for her own good, brings out the big damn hero in everyone."_

_"Whatever." _

_"Besides, one smile out of that goofy girl once in a while makes it seem like there is an upside to this shithole."_

_Expressionless, he agreed in thought but outwardly rolled his eyes. It was safer in a group, but it was also more vulnerable in ways he didn't know how to cope with. He didn't know if he wanted to learn how to... or even if he could._

* * *

Zoey performed most of the operation on her own. Francis was restricted to holding clamps and handing her instruments as she read the directions and worked since he was still only fully functional with one arm. The last thing they needed was to have him accidentally slice a blood vessel or drop something into the open incision, though the idea of planting some sort of electronic device in him was fairly tempting, if Zoey wasn't so damn mad at him he would have seriously considered bringing it up.

With the bags of saline, painkillers, heavy sedatives, and antibiotics, they began the operation by setting up and pumping two different IV's worth of the liquids into Louis. The animal meds were dosed differently, but thankfully the medicines themselves weren't different. Zoey tried to keep the train of thought out of her mind of what would have happened if they hadn't found the vet clinic. They might have been having a funeral at present time. It was touch and go for a while but thankfully Louis's directions were equally detailed and easy to understand. His pulse stayed surprisingly strong through the entire procedure.

Removal of the infected limb was less difficult than it was nauseating. Cutting through the two lower leg bones below the knee was a delicate procedure as they tried their best to avoid severing major blood vessels with the bone saw before they could be clamped down. If it was at all possible, she would never touch a saw again in her life, but she knew just the sound of a saw in action on any material would nauseate her the rest of her life.

After cutting through cartilage, tendons, nerves, ligaments, muscles, they permanently sealed and cauterized the blood vessels with a sterilized spoon Francis held over a lighter, then she stitched the muscles together around the end of the bones. Shaping the remaining healthy skin over the new end of the leg, Zoey spent the next two hours delicately stitching it back together.

Steadfastly kneeling next to her, Francis handed her whatever she asked for. He was in awe over her focus and determination to complete the procedure, despite the pale shade of her complexion at times. She would check and double check the procedure lines on the papers Louis had prepared for them before continuing with any work. When she needed a strong hand to clamp or cut he was right there, or if she needed anything prepared he was on it in seconds, never complaining or even speaking unless it was absolutely necessary. There was a surprisingly manageable amount of blood, but he continued to replace saline bags like Zoey showed him every time they ran dry.

When the last stitch had been laid and secured Zoey quickly checked the antibiotics and loaded the saline IV with painkillers. Without hesitation she followed the directions to sterilize the area around him, including laying new sheets with Francis's assistance. Finally the issue of the dead limb hopped to the front burner. Zoey stared for a minute, trying to find the words she would need to ask Francis to dispose of the thing. Noticing how she was stumbling over herself, he pointed to it.

"I'll get rid of that. He won't want to see it anyway." Picking up the discarded limb by the ankle, a brief wave of nausea hit him when he noticed it was still warm. Understandably, he quickly made his way out to the back. After unlocking the gargantuan steel door he lead with his pistol then poked his head out. The coast was clear so he tossed the leg into the open dumpster and shut the door behind him.

He didn't take one step before a loud crashing erupted outside the door. Running back he flung open the peep slot and with wide eyed surprise watched a feeding frenzy first hand. The infected snarled and attacked each other in an attempt to get at the warm flesh in the dumpster. Some jumped in and banged around inside the large metal bin while they fought.

With this Francis knew they needed to get away from population centers as soon as possible. The thought of what the cities would be like teeming with starving, more violent infected was just not something on his bucket list.

"What's all the noise about?" Zoey's exhausted voice echoed from the apartment entrance.

Francis didn't move as he responded grimly. "Feeding frenzy."

Zoey nodded knowingly, having no desire whatsoever to walk over and see it firsthand, or to be anywhere near him if it wasn't necessary. A few seconds passed and Francis closed the hatch, curiosity fading to disgust. "How does he look?"

"There's no more significant bleeding with the tourniquet removed. According to the notes, that means we did it right." She thought aloud, lightly surprised at her ability to actually complete the procedure and not kill Louis in the process.

"We..." Francis echoed lowly and bitterly at his own shortcomings and fully realized just how screwed they all would have been without her. Fresh guilt bubbled in his stomach. Truth was truth, and his explosion at her earlier on a very similar subject was eating him alive. "It was all you, Zo. I couldn't have done it." He admitted.

Zoey didn't respond to the extended olive branch and continued on about Louis. "He has a full saline and antibiotic bag. If we're lucky his fever will start to go down soon. If we are extremely lucky, he will be conscious by morning." She finished, examining her hands. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn't get the smell or the stain of the red of the blood out.

"Ok."

Mouth twitching in anger, she balled her hands into fists. Now that the operation was over she couldn't pretend to have a lid on her anger anymore. She was hurting, and he was about to suffer the consequences. "However if our streak of miserable cursed luck continues, he won't make the night." Pausing, she felt the venom rise in her throat when the next words formed in her mouth. "And you will be stuck with the _useless_ woman."

He flinched. Why did it have to be like this... oh right. He was a self important moron that couldn't control his testosterone. "Oh Lord, Zoey, I am so..."

In a manner he had witnessed firsthand with more than one woman in his life, Zoey exploded.

"No!" She cut him off throwing her hands down. "You know what? I changed my mind. If he doesn't live, you're on your own. I can't take this anymore!" She declared, voice cracking. "I've been trying since day one to be kind to you and it's done nothing but blow up in my face! If I am going to be nothing but dead weight to you, then I might as well just walk outside and ring the dinner bell!"

Flush, she walked over to Francis and stuck an angry finger in his chest. Tremors racked her body as rage combusted. "I should have listened to Bill! You're here because of my bad judgment. You're here because you let Bill sacrifice himself. Bill actually cared about us! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU!" She roared and spun around. Blindly she lashed out and pushed over the closest shelf. A hundred or so cheap bottles of alcohol fell to the floor, shattering with a satisfying crash.

Heart pounding, body twitching as adrenaline surged, she clenched her fists praying for something to pound on. Overwhelming waves of anger, regret, grief and loneliness bombarded her and she began to sob. She felt dumb... foolish. Just a stupid girl hanging on to the idealization of hope, seeing good things in people that didn't exist. Assholes were assholes, and Francis was the biggest one she'd ever crossed paths with.

He was dumbstruck. It hit closer to home than he'd admit and his first instinct was to run right out the front door and never come back. From a very young age running had been the key to survival and he had become an expert at it. It was a way of life that had suited him well up until living was no longer doable alone. He was now facing a turning point in life. Either he would finally adapt to life with others, or run headlong into a lonely death.

Bill had already slipped away before his eyes and he was losing grip on the last two people on the planet who were willing to put up with him... that had ever been willing to put up with him. They were _good_ people, absolute shining diamonds of humanity in a sea of death. She had vouched for him on the awkward first day without evening knowing him, and after a few days she went out of her way to be friendly and encourage others to be as well. Now it was his turn to try, _just try_. He owed her that much. It was all she ever wanted out of him.

Dammit. If it KILLED him, he would fucking _try_!

Clenching his jaw in determination, he took two long strides and closed the distance between them, boots crunching on broken glass.

Spinning around immediately when she felt him behind her, she began to pound on his chest with pent up fury, and he let her. Dropping his arms, he held them to his sides and stood his ground. He would not retreat. The hits came hard and fast at first, but after about a minute of nonstop pummeling she grew exhausted and leaned against her punching bag, still sobbing.

"I'm so_ lost, _Francis..." She whispered.

He brought his arms up to finally embrace her then softly rested his chin on the top of her head and mumbled in reply. "We all are, darling." _If you only knew._ Sobs faded away and with one last heavy sigh of surrender, she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

Mentally he argued with himself trying to find something, anything to say, but it couldn't be stupid. Stupid might make her just as angry again. Giving up, he just started talking.

"If I am here _only _because Bill believed that you saw something worth saving in me, you can't give up now. Well, you can, but that would really suck for me. Plus that would make you a quitter, and no one likes a quitter. You're no quitter, even if you wanted to quit school. And now I'm just not making any damn sense." Francis trailed off, his words muffled by her hair. She clenched her eyes shut and squeezed him tighter, burying her forehead in his chest, smiling as he babbled on, his chest rumbling against her head with each utterance. "Zoey, the only thing I _do_ know is that you're the sticky shit that holds us all together. Without you, there is no us."

With a self-conscious chuckle, she finally pulled away and wiped any remaining moisture from her face, beyond happy that whatever the hell had wedged between them earlier was gone. They were back to normal... actually, they were better than normal. The old normal had been left behind.

"Francis, all I got out of that was something about sticky shit."

"That's all? I said some pretty deep philosophical shit there, so deep I didn't really understand it, but it was deep, and... philosophically. I may have used some pretty damn big words too."

"'Sticky' is not a big word. Speaking of that, _I'm_ sticky?"

"Yes." He confirmed resolutely.

"What does that make you?"

He rolled his eyes and snorted, as if she should have known. "The _sexy_ shit. It is my solemn duty to make us look good."

Zoey let loose a belly laugh. "Why do you get to be sexy and I have to be sticky?"

"I get to be sexy because, well, look at me." He flexed his good arm.

Zoey stripped off her coat and flexed her arms. "Not fair! My guns are as big as yours now!"

Francis smiled like a puppy had just dropped a ball before him. Reaching out, he gently wrapped a single hand around one of her arms. His large fingers wrapped all the way around her bicep and easily touched. Shaking his head, he stood beside her and held his own arm out to flex in comparison for the second time in two weeks. She dropped her arms to her sides and glared at him, having to nearly choke herself to resist the open invitation to touch his massive arm. She'd been dying to do just that since he first stumbled into her life, but pride was happily getting in the way.

"Whatever." Zoey shook her head and began walking back to the apartment as the smell of the spilt liquor was beginning to give her a headache. "Sticky... sexy... more like you're the _dumb_ shit, Francis."

"Hey!" He called after her, feigning offense. "I think you hurt my feelings!"

"I am not entirely convinced you have feelings."

"I'm actually a tender little guy." He informed her as he caught up to her in the dark apartment hallway.

"How about a drink, _tender little _Franny?"

"You speaking my language. But this time, when I say stop drinking I won't be so tender."

"You'll have to make a hard argument."

"I'll give you something hard."

"_Francis_! Are you trying to piss me off?"

"Maybe. You're hot when you're angry."

Zoey paused in disbelief then shook her head, trying desperately not to laugh. "I fricken hate you, Francis."

"Awww, I hate you too, princess."

* * *

_Zoey, Bill, and Louis crouched on the top of a building peering over the side at a group of three other survivors, curiously watching the ways they interacted with each other. They had been following one of them for a few days now, scoping to see if he was worth adding to their own numbers. _

_In the waning evening light it was hard to see but there were two men and one woman. The woman stayed close to the shorter of the two men at all times, never saying more than a few words to the other one. They had fended off hordes on several occasions, with unseen help from Bill, Zoey, and Louis._

_"Tell me again why we need a fourth?" Louis whispered to Bill._

_"It will make it easier to stand guard through the night. Everyone gets more sleep."_

_Louis nodded, made sense to him. "So why the big one?"_

_"I have a good feeling about him." Zoey responded._

_Bill and Louis both gave her a curious stare. _

_"He appears good in a pinch, I'll give him that. However, he seems like an ass to me." Bill commented with a frown._

_"What about the last guy we had? He didn't look half as scary as that guy and he tried some serious shit. I'm not about to let some random guy get another crack at Zoey."_

_Zoey frowned and turned around. "I never liked him in the first place."_

_Bill sighed as guilt twisted his stomach. He had the final word on the last member they tried to add to the group, going against Zoey's reservations and it was almost a dangerous mistake that she had to pay for. "I tell you what Zoey, you get the final word on this one." _

_Zoey nodded with a small smile. "Ok, but I won't know for sure until we talk to him."_

_An inhuman roar interrupted their conversation as a horde came streaming down the alley towards the three at the bottom. Bill, Louis, and Zoey jumped up and began picking off the infected over the ledge, but the numbers were so massive the horde continued to swarm unhindered._

_Louis lowered his weapon and looked around, finding an opening. Even though they were seeking one person, they weren't about to let the other two die. "Follow me, I think we can pull them up to safety, there's a fire escape above them."_

_They followed Louis into a building as he weaved his way quickly through the halls to the room that connected to the fire escape, then piled out on to the grate, picking off as many infected as they could. Looking down Zoey felt ill when she noticed there was only one survivor left. The other two had been pulled into the horde during their trip through the building._

_The man quickly ran out of rounds and with a roar began bashing at the undead with the butt of his gun. _

_Bill barked an order at her, that was nearly lost over the roar of the infected. "Roast the bastards." Zoey pulled out a pipe bomb, quickly lit the fuse, enabled the beeper and gave it a hard launch. _

_With a satisfied grin, Bill lowered his weapon and struck a match to light his cigarette. The man below looked up at them with surprise then watched the infected flee out of the alleyway to chase the bomb. Louis and Bill gave each other a perplexed look as the man just stood there. He didn't realize it was a bomb. Scrambling they both leaned down over the fire escape grabbed an arm and hefted the man up and tossed him in a window. They all piled in and hit the deck. Zoey screamed at the man as she covered her own head._

_"GET DOWN!"_

_He complied as the explosion shook the side of the building. Once the noise ceased he jumped up to look out the window._

_"That is the coolest thing I have ever seen."_

_Bill spun him around an poked his M16 into the man's chest._

_"I am only interested in protecting me and mine," he said hiking a thumb in the direction of Zoey and Louis. "We saved you for one reason. You are large and pretty good with that shot gun. We could use you. What do you say?"_

_The man looked torn between anger, confusion, and curiosity. Ultimately he just stood there wordlessly staring at Bill._

_Zoey walked over to him, strapping her rifle to her back. With a gentle smile she asked, "what's your name?"_

_Taken back for a second, he stared at her, startled. She wasn't scared of him at all. Finally finding some words he responded._

_"Have grandpa put his gun down and we will talk. He's making me nervous."_

_Bill tentatively lowered his weapon but remained alert. Zoey stuck out her hand with a smile._

_"My name is Zoey. I'm sorry about your friends."_

_He gave her a queer look, then looked back and forth between Louis and Bill. Sticking out his own hand he firmly shook her small warm hand, surprised by the strength of her grip. Each time she spoke, his animosity fizzled and his guard started to drop. _

_"Francis. And they weren't my friends."_

_Louis stood stock still, trying not to be intimidated by the massive size of the man now that they were in person. Something in his stomach told him this was a very bad idea, but he trusted Zoey. If there was someone worth trusting it was her._

_"That's Bill and that's Louis, and they _are_ my_ _friends."_

_Bill grunted in acknowledgement. Louis nodded and greeted him. "Hey man."_

_"How on earth have a grandpa, a nerd in a tie, and a little girl lived so long?" Francis pondered aloud cracking an amused smile for the briefest second._

_Zoey frowned and pointed a finger at him. "I'm not a little girl."_

_"Ok, small female."_

_Bill stepped forward again and pointed at Francis. "You wait here. We need to talk."_

_Bill, Zoey, and Louis stepped into the hallway. _

_"I don't like him." Bill complained, crossing his arms._

_Zoey bit her lip while she thought. He was definitely rough around the edges. "He fended off a horde by himself and I still don't get any bad vibes from him."_

_"And he hasn't tried to kill anyone... yet." Louis laughed nervously._

_"Is that your decision?" Bill asked. Zoey nodded, understanding the risk they were taking. "Alright then."_

_Bill walked back into the room, pulling down the shotgun he had strapped to his back. "Here, it's much better than that piece of shit you're carrying." He threw him a bag of ammo, which Francis caught then looked back with confusion._

_"What's this for, old man?"_

_"You're hired. Don't touch the girl and I won't have to kill you. There's an evac spot on the roof of the building across the street. Hopefully it's not abandoned like the last three."_

_Francis walked out into the hall behind Bill and Louis, he paused by Zoey, looking down at her for a moment. "I should go last."_

_He watched carefully as Zoey nodded then followed Louis and Bill down the hallway. Francis hid a mischievous smile, old man didn't say anything about looking. _

_He wondered how long they would last._

* * *

The next morning came early. Thankfully Francis was able to restrain Zoey from drinking herself into oblivion and she woke up with only mild dehydration. She arose at the first sunbeams shining through the window and with great urgency bounded to her feet, startling Francis who was leaning against the couch she slept on. Without asking he also jumped up and followed her over to the open bedroom door. They ran in and stood stock still at the bedside. Louis's prone form moved nearly imperceptibly with the rise and fall of his chest. He had made it through the night.

Zoey checked the stitching and was very pleased to only find mild blood spotting on the sheets. Francis replaced the saline bag without asking and checked to make sure the antibiotic bag was still dripping at a steady rate. Pulling out the ear thermometer she tested his temp and was beyond pleased to find that it had fallen since the operation, though it was still high as Louis's immune system was engaged in the fight of its life with the outrageously valuable antibiotics as his cavalry.

Satisfied with the state of her patient, she nodded at Francis and they left the room. He went and sat on the couch, exhaustion still evident on his face. With the snap of her fingers Zoey suddenly remembered her other patient, or uh, victim, depending on how she looked at it.

"I nearly forgot about your shoulder."

"That makes me feel special. You shot me, you know."

Zoey pulled some cleaning supplies and dressings out of Louis's room and straddled the coffee table. She patted the surface in front of her for him to sit on so she could get the best vantage to clean the lesions. Pulling off his tattered vest, he obliged and sat on the edge of the table, concerned for a second that it would not hold them both. It creaked in protest but held steady.

Ripping off the bandages as Francis grunted, Zoey was not happy with the look of the wound. "You need to start taking some antibiotics or this thing won't heal. The penicillin has probably worn off by now."

She proceeded to clean it and made sure none of her stitches had popped. Pausing, she ran to get one of the large bottles of antibiotics. "One of these in the morning and at night for a couple weeks. Take with food or you'll have wicked upset stomach."

"You ain't half bad at this whole doctor thing." He pointed out while swallowing the dry pill and taking a bite of beef jerky. Trying to separate himself from the pain as she prodded, he focused on the cured meat stick.

"I gotta say, I'm ok at it... as long as I have Louis telling me what to do anyway." She said dryly, laying a warm soaked cloth over the scabs to soften them up. Even with the pink water running down to soak his new shirt, it felt... very good.

"That's... that's really nice."

"I used to long jump in track and I fell a lot, so when I'd skin up my knees really bad I'd do this to loosen up the scabs. Plus if I scrub too hard, I might rip the stitches. It shouldn't take much longer." She said, rising the cloth in the bucket of warm water and reapplying it.

"Don't rush on my account."

Laying her hand on the cloth, she applied a bit of pressure. He closed his eyes, focusing on how wonderfully his skin relaxed with the warm moisture.

"When all this is over, and everything is back to normal, you should go to school and be a doctor. Maybe you'll like it more than whatever the hell you were there for in the first place."

Zoey paused, smiling. "That's a nice thought, but if I couldn't stir the motivation to get to class for filmography, do you really think I'd make it for science?"

"I'll get you there." He said simply, and she held her breath. There was no joking or teasing in his voice, just matter of fact honesty, as though his presence in her life was permanent. Staring at the back of his head, a small shy smile graced her face.

"You really think I can?" She asked softly. His shoulders hitched as he chuckled. She flushed in disappointed embarrassment. He was just teasing after all.

"Zoey!" He exclaimed, her head snapped up. "You did major surgery last night! Before that, you fixed up a gunshot wound! You may not have Louis's retarded smart super brain, but you are not an idiot. There's only room for one of those on this team. Plus you got smart hands."

"Smart hands?" She laughed, brightening. It was good he was facing away or he'd see the moisture momentarily welling in her eyes at his unabashed confidence in her. He honestly believed in her, not even truly knowing who she was. Even her parents never could muster the same level of conviction. Film was just a way to push her through school to get a diploma to show off to their friends, it never challenged her. If it had she may have actually had the drive to go to class. Of course her father wanted her to be a cop like him, which still required a diploma. She loved going out to the range with him, but she only liked shooing the rifles with him because it was challenging. She had no interest in running around giving people traffic tickets and getting spit on by protesters, and at the time, shooting at people.

"Yeah. I never had to show you more than once how to use the new guns, and you'd use the hell out of them like you'd been shooting every make and model your whole damn life, then you did surgery just by reading off a piece of paper. So, I was wrong, you don't have smart hands, you have fucking genius hands."

Zoey rested her hands on her thighs staring blankly ahead. The word he was looking for was coordination, but she was just fine with how he said it.

Her quiet made him uneasy. "Zo?"

Wiping her eyes, she cleared her throat. "That... moronic as it was, it is honestly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Francis stiffened. Fuzzy affirmations really weren't what he was going for, he was just telling the truth. "You... uh... " He fumbled awkwardly. Who knew personal moments could be sitting in the wing ready to ambush at a moment's notice?

"Say, 'you're welcome'."

"You're welcome?"

"Atta boy." Zoey shook her head and finished dressing up the cleaned wound. Once she completed, it was more flexible and didn't catch on the bandages. He knew in a few days his biggest issue would be the itching from the stitches. She helped him put the vest back on and he returned to the couch. They sat in silence for a minute before he spoke.

"So now what?"

"I guess we wait?"

"Guess so."

* * *

The next three days passed uneventfully, in fact so much that the boredom was driving Francis out of his mind. If it wasn't for caring for Louis, Zoey wouldn't have been far behind him. They had found cards out front, but a few days of drinking and card games got old pretty fast. Zoey was pleased she could spend some time grooming herself, but eventually ran out of stray eyebrow hairs to pluck and nails to trim. On the end of the third day, Francis had had enough.

"We're going out." He announced as he sat on the checkout counter staring out the rebar reinforced window with his pistol in hand. The majority of his morning had been spent using the street as shooting gallery. Every now and then an infected would investigate the noise and would be picked off as well.

"Why?" She asked slowly and suspiciously.

"Well, for one, I'm out of ammo." He grinned cheekily, hitting the release and the empty clip dropped out to his other hand.

"Francis." Zoey groaned.

"Just for my pistol, relax. You can't tell me you don't want to. You said Louis's fever is almost broken, so he should be fine on his own. Heck, he might even be up before we get back."

Zoey contemplated his offer and thought it best to decide against it despite her cabin fever. Well, for the most part anyway. "I tell you what, I will go out and look around with you if, and only if, you find a legitimate reason for us to do so."

Francis didn't miss a beat. He pulled out the maps and directions Louis had put together for them. Handing Zoey the pile he jumped off the counter.

"I've been looking at the escape plan during the last few days. I'm not sure if it was on purpose, but Louis mapped out where we are going, not how we are going to get there. I don't know about you but I am sure as hell not walking to Florida."

"What do you have in mind?" She asked, not removing her eyes from the papers.

"If there is one thing I know about small hick towns, there are more churches than stores, and more bars than churches. Where there are bars, city or country, there are my kind of people."

"What kind of people would that be?"

"People that prefer two wheels to four. Cars can't get through the cities and the highways. If we find some bikes they will be easier to fuel and maneuver."

Zoey was actually impressed by his reasoning, but he seemed to be missing something. "That doesn't mean there will be a line of bikes just sitting around for us if they are that easy to escape on."

"We won't know til we look."

Zoey looked over her shoulder at the hallway to the apartment then back at Francis. She was utterly conflicted.

"Come on Princess, let's get some fresh air." Francis practically begged. Closing her eyes, she finally threw her hands up in the air with a cry and surrendered.

"No one ever said I was the master of good decision making. Let's do it. All zombies and no fun makes Zoey a dull girl, right?" She gave in with a smile but a shred of reason quickly caught up with her. "BUT we need to set some ground rules. Our last outing was a near disaster. If we can make it through this without shooting each other, I'd appreciate it."

"Ok."

"First, if my gun is raised, don't jump in front of me. Second, we can't lose our tempers and risk another tank or horde."

"Deal." Francis agreed quickly, he was near giddy about heading out.

"Ok. Let me go freshen up Louis's dressings."

"I'll reload my pistol."

"I thought you were out of ammo!" She glared.

"In _this_ room."

Rolling her eyes, Zoey grumbled and walked away. "Ten minutes."

* * *

Once Louis had been situated they both prepared for battle. Francis's arm was well enough to wield a weapon if necessary so he packed both pistols plus his shotgun with extra rounds and a few incendiary devices. He tried to leave his pack empty for the most part just in case he found some things worth taking back. Zoey walked out, packed for an excursion as well. Pistols, rifle, small med kit, and ammo were in her pack. She also left some space for any goodies she might stumble across.

They set out in the mid afternoon heading down the opposite side of the street from the last outing. They were bent on exploring all the different bars and restaurants for treats and bikes. Moving like a well oiled machine, they had little need for conversation as they crept along the sides of the buildings. They didn't get in each other's way and avoided making any excess noise. The few infected that they happened upon were easily dispatched with little commotion.

Unfortunately they were not finding much. The couple bikes they did come across were in mangled piles of twisted metal on the ground. They were growing frustrated but pressed on, checking every alley and side street. Rounding the corner of the last bar, Francis felt his chest tighten and he froze. Zoey turned the corner behind him and stepped beside him eyes widening.

"Oh my."

Laying before them was a line of intact bikes. It was the most beautiful sight Francis had seen in weeks. In the middle of the pack was a bike that was only a few pinstripes away from being a direct replica of the bike that he previously owned. It took all he had not to run over to it an squeal like a little girl.

"Francis, did you know these were here?"

"I hoped. Something had to give."

He walked carefully around the machines, entranced by them. When he reached his new bike, he gently ran his hand from the handle bars to the seat. "You've been waiting for me haven't you..."

"Sick. Get a room." She goaded and he rolled his eyes. Strapping on his shotgun he straddled the bike and shifted his weight from left to right to check the balance. Just like that he was at home again.

"Maybe I will." He checked the tank for gas. It was full. "I'm guessing the original owner, who just might be Santa Claus, filled her up then went into the bar for his last drink."

"It looks that way for a lot of these bikes. I'm guessing a witch or maybe that tank from yesterday."

Stepping off the bike he pulled out his pocket knife and started digging around the edges of the ignition to pop it out. After cutting and twisting a few wires he walked it out of the line to the edge of the alley. She followed at a distance, alert to their surroundings.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Looking both ways down the street he straddled the bike and faced it out of town. "Get on."

"Sure let's just start up a noisy engine! Hold on and let me run to the store and get some butter to baste my ass first!" Zoey exclaimed, then paused, realizing he wasn't joking. "Tell me you're kidding, Francis."

"Nope. Get on, or I'll leave your unbasted ass here."

Common sense told her it was a bad idea and that she should run back to the liquor store with Louis. Then again common sense left the building with her when they set out an hour earlier. "You better know what you're doing."

"Where there are no people, there are no vampires. Besides, they'd have to be able to catch us."

"Zombies."

"Whatever. Do you trust me?" He encouraged, patting the seat behind him. Considering him for a moment she heaved a resigned sigh; for some crazy reason she did trust him.

Strapping on her rifle, she climbed on back of the bike and slid down the curved seat until she was flush against his back. She tried to find some unobtrusive handle to hang onto but there were none. Francis waited for her to grab a hold of him, as was standard for the second rider on a bike, but after a few seconds of her shifting behind him he peered back over his shoulder and caught her dilemma.

"Come on Zo, if you don't hold on to me you _will_ fall off." He paused momentarily in thought and his voice cracked with a laugh. "I promise I don't have cooties. " Francis shifted his shotgun across his lap and flipped up the kickstand with his boot, done waiting.

"Heh, yeah." Tentatively Zoey laced one arm casually around him. Safety or not, it felt too personal for her girlish sensibilities.

Francis touched a few wires to each other and the engine roared to life. Without a second thought he kicked it into gear and gunned it out of the one road town. The lurch forward almost dislodged Zoey from her seat and with a yelp she threw her other arm around him and gripped his waist, suddenly aware her life might actually depended on it. Removing her finger from the trigger of the pistol when she realized it was practically lodged into his gut, she decided it would be best if she didn't shoot him twice in one week.

A few infected crawled out of the woodwork and futilely chased them to the end of town before giving up, their inhuman screams drowning out in the wind. The bike was too fast and they were well out of range in just a few seconds.

Zoey had never been on a motorcycle. It was equally exhilarating and beautiful as the setting sun cast brilliant colors in the cauliflower clouds. The air was fresh and Francis's driving skills were exemplary. She guessed everyone truly had to be good at something, his skill set just included riding bikes and shooting the undead.

Gathering some courage she squeezed the bike with her legs, slowly raised her arms in the air, and closed her eyes. Taking in a deep breath she let out a yip of joy. Francis momentarily grinned as he peeked back at her. "Go faster!" She shouted above the wind, still holding her hands up as if she was on a rollercoaster.

"Yes 'Mam!" He yelled with a quick one handed salute and leaned forward, revving the engine. Wobbling with the acceleration Zoey clamped her arms around him again. Laughter rose out of her lungs of its own volition with every curve in the road.

They drove for a good hour, passing lakes and streams while Zoey marveled at the evening reflections in the still ponds. It was absolutely beautiful like a postcard had come to life. She allowed herself the brief luxury of fantasy and imagined that she was back two months in time on this same excursion except with different company...

Or not.

She flushed. The very idea of someone like Francis, or the man himself being brought home to her parents was insane. The fallout would have been epic. She had been in enough trouble as it was telling them she wanted to drop out of school. Still, _Francis_? It was so wrong. Not that he was bad to look at, he was built like a brick sh...

What the hell! Zoey clamped a quick hand over her face. Thank the LORD he couldn't see her at that moment. Suppressing a giggle she tried to wipe away the sly smile. He could never know she had ever entertained the thought, _never_. Oh the humiliation that would bring. He would tease her for the rest of their unnatural lives. As much as he flirted with her, he had never actually tried to make a move. Numerous _scandalous_ opportunities had passed. If he was interested he would have taken advantage of-

-but it wasn't like _she_ was interested! It was _Francis_. He was the legendary disturber of witches, impervious to alcohol, and had a strange affection for his vest and motorcycles. AND the man hated _almost_ everything. Why would she, hell, why would ANYONE be interested in any of that... that... hilarious and infectious trouble? She doubted he even had the capacity to care enough about someone to have a genuine relationship. Not that it mattered. For fuck's sake it was FRANCIS.

Her arm that remained wrapped around him abruptly felt like it was about to catch fire. She was suddenly hyper aware of their proximity as well as his very rigid and solid dimensions. Eyes widening on an abrupt adrenaline rush, she decided that the air rushing over her could stand to be a bit cooler. The heat had to be coming from him, right? She wasn't having some sort of girly hormonal episode!

Of course not. She was a hard ass. Kinda. Sorta. Maybe. Not really.

She was reminded why she was a miserable failure in school. If she could have majored in day dreaming and strange fantasy she would have attained a doctorate in 5 years. Shaking her head to eject the burning images running rampant in her head, she slapped her cheeks a few times. "Focus, Zoey." She ordered with a whisper.

When the high had faded she was left with the original thought that had spurred the heated tangent: seeing her family again. Sighing sadly she realized she still would have loved to hear their incredulous and judging reactions just to be able to see them once again. She missed her family so damn much, but part of her was happy they didn't have to live to see the state of the present world.

Shaking her head to vanquish the train of thought she immersed herself in her current situation. A bit of reality was needed to level out the cacophony of thoughts and feelings overloading her mind.

In the middle of a zombie apocalypse she was riding on the back of a Harley with a fearless, rugged older man in the dwindling daylight. So much for reality. It was almost frame for frame out of one of those movies she spent so much time watching instead of going to class. This was the textbook happy ending scene where 'our heroes' would ride off into the sunset to safety, having escaped the carnage. However there was no happy ending ahead for them, there was merely a return to their gruesome reality. For all the movies she watched she had learned that there were no true happy endings. There were only happy 'right now's' and you had to grab on to them and cherish them when you were able.

With a contemplative sigh she determined that the current 'right now' was the closest thing to happy that she had been since her parents had decided to split her senior year in high school. After that, everything started going to hell, long before people started eating other people. She treasured the memory in the making and it was an experience she would look back on fondly for the rest of her life, however long that would be.

They drove up into the hills for about ten minutes. When they has risen a couple hundred feet in elevation he pulled the bike into a turnout to look out over the horizon. Most of what they could see was a blackout, as if the whole world had just decided to shut off the lights. However what looked to be about 50 miles north was a line of city lights seeming to be the barrier between the insanity of their world and the realm of the normal people.

"The infection is spreading fast. The CEDA barriers were still at the edge of Riverside last week. " Zoey commented, an air of grief in her voice. Francis nodded then looked south. There were no lights as far as the eye could see.

"It looks like it came from the south and is moving north." He noted latching the kick stand and stepping off the bike. Wandering over to the guard rail he leaned against it on his arms. "Louis was right."

"Yeah." She agreed with her gaze fixated on the live city lights. Her heart yearned to go towards the normal people but it would be a deathtrap for all they encountered, healthy or not. A small breeze cooled her front side with the absence of Francis's body heat. She trembled a bit and brushed it off as she stepped off the bike to stand next to him.

Her attention piqued when a light blinked out of the corner of her eye. It couldn't be stars already, it was too light out. She squinted to get a better look when another two blinks caught her attention. Walking around Francis she opened her mouth in awe, it had been years since she had seen any lightning bugs, let alone a swarm of them. She opened her eyes widely as they adjusted to the dark. Thousands of sparks surrounded the entire street and dark forest behind them.

"Oh wow..."

"It is that time of year. I used to come out here once in a while when I was a kid." He turned to face the bike, shutting out reality behind him. Zoey ran through the glowing cloud, catching a bug in her hand. It blinked in her grasp and then floated up and away when she opened her palm. Francis suppressed a smile as she laughed aloud.

"You brought me up here on purpose." She accused with a disbelieving grin, before he could lie and refute her claim she walked up to him and squeezed his good shoulder. "Thanks."

Awkwardly he uncrossed his arms from his chest and mumbled, "I uh, yeah... uh... you..."

Gazing back out to the field of blinks and streaks, she leaned back against the guard rail next to him. She didn't really think the day could have been any better, aside from the zombie killing... and leg amputation cleaning... she shook her head fiercely. This moment, this evening was not about to be ruined.

With a contented sigh she reached to her sides to rest her hands on the cool steel of the side rail and jumped when she accidently set her hand on top of his. They both awkwardly jumped off the rail.

"Sorry." They echoed each other and Francis started walking back to the bike, clearly unnerved. Zoey remained for a second, biting her cheek when her earlier mental excursion flooded her brain. Luckily Francis snapped her out of it.

"We need to go. It's quite a drive back."

She jogged over and jumped back on the bike without a word. Once she was securely behind him and out of his line of sight, she couldn't suppress the wide grin anymore. What a great night, ridiculous fantasies and all. She almost felt normal.

Francis couldn't figure her out. One second she was all business then she was giggling like a little girl with a juicy secret. Whether or not he could hear it wasn't the issue, he could _feel_ it. What a rollercoaster that woman was. Last night she was ready to kill him, this morning she was solemn as statue, and now she was... giddy? As much as he loved her good moods he wanted to know what was going through her head. It was driving him batty.

Prior to the apocalypse he had never really paid all that much attention to the way women were in everyday life to really know what was normal. Did they all do that? Or was Zoey a bit of a nut? Grimacing in confusion, he shook his head, refusing to believe that his luck was so poor that the last girl alive was that good with a gun, that good looking, and a nutbag. Well, at least he hoped that wasn't the case. It would be the icing on the crazy cake if it was.

On the way up to the lookout he had waged an internal war over whether it was a good idea to even go up. His first motivation was in seeing the state of the surrounding areas and confirming Louis's speculations, but that alone would not have been enough to risk the drive. He had wanted for her to be able to see the fireflies, and hoped they would be there. It was once special place for him and he figured he should share it with someone at the last opportunity he may ever be afforded.

The very day became mobile as a young teen he had found it while on the run from his foster parents... in their own car, which he had _borrowed_ without asking. He had spent an entire night on the overlook to watch the bugs blink and dance over the man made star field. Hours were wasted waiting for the cops to roll up and arrest him, but they never found him. Though he had a severe ass whipping waiting for him back at the house when he returned, it had been worth it. He was able to bring his younger brother up once after that but never again, because the following Monday they shipped Francis out to the next foster home. Alone.

They had decided his younger brother was worth keeping, and keep him they did. They kept him away from Francis for the rest of his life despite the repeated attempts he made to visit. On his brother's sixteenth birthday he made a special trip to see him having actually asked and been granted permission, but he was greeted by an empty house. They had packed up and left town without even leaving a forwarding address at the post office.

Francis had finally understood at that moment that he had been deemed unworthy by those people. He was something that could be thrown away, like the wrapper that came with a candy bar. It was the first time he actually felt as disposable as people had been treating him.

He was never the same after that. Limping through the requirements to graduate high school his teachers, counselors, and foster homes no longer described him as troubled. He was just plain _trouble_. He took an active interest in making the lives of everyone he felt responsible for his separation from his only remaining family member, absolutely miserable. Upon graduation it didn't take long to fall off the is grid once he passed through the doors of his childhood into a nasty, angry world.

It also didn't take long to find the Hell's Legion, or maybe they found him. He wasn't really sure. There were bar fights, and he won a lot of them, which probably caught their attention. Membership wasn't really a choice once he was on the radar. He spent his years between running with them and running from them. No matter what he tried, there was no escape. His usefulness to them was a burden to his own well being. When a man is as powerful as a ox and just as mean looking it was the making of a great grunt. Francis knew at the very core of his soul that he would have never done half the things he was forced to if that gun hadn't been held to his head.

Then again, he wasn't exactly the master of good decision making either. While three quarters of the hell in his life was from that gang, which unfortunately had branded him with ink, the last quarter was from never thinking things through. If something sounded fun or particularly hilarious he'd do it, without considering the consequences. Once his brother was gone, he fully embraced that way of living since the only person he wanted or cared to worry about in life was number one.

So much of his trouble was self inflicted, a condition he never thought he'd have a reason to amend. He'd never had responsibility heaped upon him, or people that relied on him. Now that he was facing down both at the same time was a sobering experience, and he couldn't say he hated it. As much as it thrilled him to be without a care in the world, or anyone in the world to care for, there were immeasurable benefits to being connected to people. Though he feared feeling the pain of loss again, and as much as it hurt when Bill was ripped away, as much as it reminded him of being stripped of his brother, he wasn't alone this time. There were two people who hurt as much as he did, and they were worth everything.

_One day, Fran, I'm going to bottle up all these lightning bugs and make a million dollars. Then you, Mom, and I will get to be together forever. No more stupid foster homes. No more stupid foster parents. Just you me and Mom in back in Elko at the park..._

Knowing it may be the last time he ever visited the turnout, he kicked the engine of the motorcycle to life. He prayed his brother was still alive, happy, and safe somewhere... and that maybe he thought of him once in a while. Chances were that he was better off than he ever would have been if that family had let him stuck around. Clenching his jaw, he tried to shake away the ancient pain.

The pressure of her body settling against his back and her warm arms snaking around his waist brought him out of his reverie. He released the bite and allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up for a brief second. The apocalypse truly had been good to him. He'd never admit to it but he would crawl over hot coals for her. If it killed him, he would do what it took to make sure she was comfortable and happy in that shithole of a world. In the end he couldn't do right by his brother but he would by her, even if he believed his best efforts would never amount to much or anything at all.

She happened to be one of the only people left in the world that didn't mind him and, hell, even seemed to like him at times. Francis figured he may as well have just won the lottery, but he knew his one on one time with her was dwindling and he had to make the best of it. When they eventually found more people, or even when Louis woke up she'd probably drift away from him.

What he truly dreaded was when she would eventually find that one person out there that would catch her eye for real. He would despise that lucky bastard and whoever he was that drew the golden ticket better pray that no circumstances ever arose that required his intervention. He would not be gentle with anyone who would dare cross her, stupid ass Forest Gump country boy or not.

Pulling back onto the highway he let out a slow breath in the crisp air and settled his attentions on the road ahead, happy for once to think of absolutely nothing.

* * *

It took a good hour to get back. They stopped the bike a quarter mile out of town and walked it back in to avoid attracting any extra infected. The moonlight guided them through the alleyways, preventing anything from hiding in plain sight. Zoey kept her rifle in a ready position as they tread through. As long as they left their lights out, the infected seem to ignore them. They only saw one or two the entire way back to the liquor store and they let them be.

Entering the store, they quickly checked for signs of intrusions from infected and non infected. When all was clear they lit some candles and made their way back to Louis's room. It was nice to walk in and not be overwhelmed by the scent of decay. With the light tap of the glass candle being set on the night stand, the still man in the bed turned his head and opened his tired brown eyes.

Francis and Zoey froze in anticipation when a smile tugged at the corners of Louis's mouth and with a dry voice he spoke.

"Look, it's Dorothy and... Scarecrow."

"What!" Francis gaped indignantly.

"If you only had a brain..." Louis rasped with a heavy chuckle.

"LOUIS!" Zoey jumped, overflowing with joy and relief. Knowing she couldn't jump on Louis she spun around, tackled Francis and tried her best to squeeze the air out of him. "Holy shit! We did it!" Entirely self conscious in front of Louis, he backed away when Zoey released him. Louis smiled tiredly at his awkward retreat.

"So how does it feel being all stumpy?" Francis asked, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms.

"Strange. Sometimes when I lay really still I swear I can feel my toes tingling."

Francis felt it best not to tell him that some zombies were probably chewing on his toes at the moment.

"And the pain?" Zoey wondered, checking his bandages and stitches.

"Not as bad as I thought it would be. Definitely better than it was."

Louis sat up with a grunt and stared at the shortened limb. It was going to take a long time to get used to just looking at it. Examining the nearly foot long seam of skin and stitches he felt slightly ill but pushed it away. He didn't know when he would be able to touch it. Since the nerves had been severed the bottom of it was numb for the most part, but it was just plain creepy.

"I will stay on antibiotics until the seam no longer... leaks." He finished sourly. Francis shuddered involuntarily at unwelcome memories of the operation. Zoey shook her head in disbelief while all three of them silently contemplated the stub.

"I found bikes." Francis volunteered. Louis nodded and leaned back against the wall.

"I knew you'd find something."

Francis gave him an odd stare. "Bullshit. How?"

"Well if I lived you certainly weren't going to carry my ass to Florida."

"And if you didn't?" Francis challenged.

"You just couldn't bear the thought of going on without me... and you just don't think that far ahead." Louis replied plainly sliding back down to rest again. With a snort, Francis opened his mouth to retort but Louis cut him off before he could. "Besides, we take care of our own."

Francis relaxed, voice hitching when Louis spoke. He felt a puzzling connection to the two sitting before him. It had taken nearly 20 years of anger, loneliness, and a zombie apocalypse, but he had finally found a place he belonged. Swallowing hard, he gave Louis a crooked smile.

"Well, Stumpy, now I have to find you some training wheels since I _didn't_ think that far ahead."

"Don't do too much thinking, Francis, your brain comes pretty close to capacity just tying your shoes." Louis cracked.

"You have no idea." Francis agreed grimly then turned to walk out. Louis sat up quickly.

"Shit, what the hell happened to your shoulder!"

Zoey shot Louis a glare, "Mind your business, Louis."

Francis laughed from outside the door. "Zoey had to practice stitching on something, so she shot me."

"Zoey!" Louis gasped indignantly and she shot a death glare out the door.

"He jumped in front of me! And there was a tank!"

"Oh, so you used him as live bait to make your escape easier? I see how it is. You're just gonna amputate me piece by piece and drop it for the infected aren't you? Diabolical witch." Louis teased.

With a frustrated growl Zoey jumped up and picked up the candle. "Good night Louis."

"Good night, Zoey. It's nice to see you two again."

Pausing before heading out the door Zoey turned back and smiled. "You too Louis. We were really worried for a while."

"I wasn't!" Francis added from the other room.

"Liar! You cried. I saw you."

"WHAT!"

Louis laid his head on the pillow with a relieved sigh as the door clicked shut, happy to be alive, even if it was in the middle of living hell.

Standing at the door as it shut behind her, Zoey found Francis sitting on the small couch with his head resting on the back, both arms spread out to rest on the back of the couch. He looked too comfortable to move.

"Do you want the couch tonight?" Zoey asked quietly, feeling a bit guilty over not offering him the opportunity before.

"Nah. It's plenty comfortable where I sleep." He replied, unmoving. Zoey walked over and squeezed in next to him on his right side, resting her head back on his extended arm.

"It was a good day." She thought aloud, staring up at the ceiling, surprised how bright it was with the moonlight pouring in the windows. Turning her head slightly she picked up the pale profile of Francis's face.

"Sure, except for the nasty lies about me crying." He whined and closed his eyes, in the process of succumbing to the exhaustion.

Yawning, she looked over and studied him. When relaxed he had a very pleasant expression, and when his eyes were closed he almost looked peaceful. Maybe there was a gentle giant hiding behind the ink and leather. His newly grown hair fascinated her the most. The dark buzz length strands stuck straight out but followed an ingrained pattern in his scalp. The very front of his hairline swooshed a bit up and to the left and defied gravity like a boy's. It matched his personality very well; boyish traits often betraying the rugged exterior. Though part of her didn't really think a man like Francis could really have any truly soft squishy parts.

Clearing her head with a quick shake, she composed herself. Though ready to sleep she was not about to boot him to the floor. Besides, he was so _warm._ Curling up next to him she leaned into his side and with a long exhalation drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Snickering woke Zoey up. Eyes popping open, she winced as the bright sun lanced her eyes.

"Good morning." Louis called from the doorway. He stood on his one leg, balancing against the doorframe.

Zoey sat up remembering the previous night; however her pillow was nowhere to be found.

"Good morning..." She greeted, slightly disappointed then turned her attention back to Louis. "How does it feel?"

"Strange." He said simply then covered his mouth in an attempt to hide his grin. "Nice shirt."

Zoey raised an eyebrow and peered down. Stretching out the fabric she read the upside down print.

"Love machine."

She certainly had not gone to sleep with that shirt on; peering under the neckline she was relieved to see her white camisole. She whipped off the offending garment as fast as she could.

"_Francis_..." She seethed and balled up the shirt. A vein popped on her forehead.

An engine roared to life down the hall, quickly sputtered and died. Francis's curses echoed down through the building and Zoey exchanged a curious look with Louis.

"He went out to get a bike this morning and he's trying to get it running."

"By himself!" Slipping on her track jacket she ran out to the main room of the liquor store. Louis limped slowly behind her, hoping down the hall with one hand on the wall for support. Skidding out into the store Zoey couldn't see anything over the short shelves so she turned the corner to find Francis sitting on the floor trying to do something to the engine. Liquid puddled around him and the bike. His arms and face were smeared with grease.

"Piece of European shit..." He grumbled and pulled out a corroded hose piece from the assembly.

"What the hell happened here?"

"Corroded hose popped when I started it up." He responded reaching back to unlatch the other half of the hose.

"I don't know _how_ you got this thing on me, but it looks like you need it more than I do. And don't go out by yourself again."

She tossed the shirt on his head and walked away. "Ok, mom." Francis jumped up with a grin, wiping his face with it. "Hey!" He called to her before she turned the corner. She stopped momentarily, glancing over her shoulder. "This bike is for you. Uh, ta-da?"

Zoey scrunched up her nose. "That's not the one I liked. Louis can have it."

"Like I want your sloppy seconds." Louis cracked with a final hop as he sat on the stool behind the counter.

"It's the only one that came with a trailer. Easier to balance." Francis replied, tossing the dirty shirt back to the ground. "Zoey, get ready to go out. I need to steal a hose off one of those other bikes. We can pick up the one you want too."

Louis sat at the counter contemplating the bike and Francis. "I never considered you for having any mechanical aptitude."

"Just enough to be dangerous." He picked up his shotgun and loaded his pistols. Zoey emerged from the hall, loaded and ready to go.

"Don't be long, you two. There is a lot to go over today."

Zoey nodded. "FYI the bathroom has hot water and razors." She hinted, motioning to his beard. Louis felt his chin then his head.

"I suppose I'm looking a bit homeless right now."

"Right now?" Francis snorted.

"Yeah, yeah. Get going grease monkey." Louis waved dismissively.

Locking the door behind them, Francis led the way quietly down the street. Zoey cautiously scoped the surroundings, finding little if no movement. Without wasting a minute they made their way to the bar with the bike line.

"There aren't many infected left." Zoey commented when they turned the last corner.

"Nice, isn't it?" Francis replied while checking out the bikes for the replacement hose he needed. "So, which one do you want, Princess?"

"This one."

With his pocket knife he removed the hose from another bike and stood once it popped off. Nose scrunching in disgust, he crossed his arms when he saw her straddling the bike she had picked out.

"No. Just no."

"I like it. It looks fast."

Francis walked around the bike, all his senses in seriously offended by what he saw. It was black with lime green highlights. "And stupid."

"I still like it." She leaned forward to grasp the handle bars, imagining herself on the open road. Happening to be behind her bike when she did, Francis found a reason to like the monstrosity.

"Alright. I give." He surrendered with a smirk.

"What?" She asked innocently, looking over her shoulder.

"It works. Let's go."

Zoey furrowed her brow as he walked around to the front of the bike, suddenly wary of her decision. "Francis..." She warned, jumping off. "Why do you like it all of a sudden?"

"I hate it. Better be as easy to hotwire as mine or I'm gonna put you on a scooter."

She didn't know what he meant by that, but it sounded innocuous enough. "Ok..."

They quickly made their way back to the store. Louis was still at the counter with all his books and maps spread open when they entered, rolling in the third bike.

"That was surprisingly quick." Louis said, not taking his eyes off his reading. Zoey noticed that he was looking like his old self, the bath and shave had done wonders for him. His white button down shirt even looked fairly clean. He had decided to go without his red tie.

"Well, Francis spent the three days you were out picking off infected from this window. There probably aren't many left to bother us in this town."

Francis rolled the bike next to the other two; it was quite the spectrum. His Harley, the luxury BMW with trailer that now belonged to Louis, and the who-cares-what-brand crotch rocket for Zoey. Leaning down next to the BMW he jimmy rigged the new hose onto the bike. While he was pleased it fit, he forgot to that all the coolant had drained out, but if the hose was leaking before the previous owner might have kept a quart in his trailer. He hadn't actually looked in the trailer yet. Flipping open the small door to the trailer he felt his heart jump into the back of his throat.

"It must STILL be my birthday."

"How so?"

"Look." The trailer was full of ammo and grenades. And tucked into the upper compartment was a quart of coolant.

"Francis, you were right. Santa Claus was here."

Francis filled the coolant bay while Zoey dug around in the treasure chest of doom. When he finished, he was pleased that there were no apparent leaks. Starting the bike he held his breath waiting for something to pop. The engine started with a choke then settled into a fairly quiet purr compared to the Harley. He shut the engine off then moved to Zoey's bike. He found the ignition and popped it out. With a curse he dug through the wires. Nothing was familiar. "Japanese horseshit!"

Louis looked up from his book. "Need help?"

Francis wanted to say no, but it got him out of having to work. "The bike needs help, not me. We should go out to look for gas anyway."

Zoey packed up her weapons and they headed out again to find some fuel. Louis remained and worked. There were quite a few wires in the ignition so he popped up the main console with the pocket knife and in about minute he had rigged a starting method, replacing the console cover.

Hopping over to the BMW he straddled the bike. It was comfortable enough, but he was definitely not ready to pilot it. He would have to rig a kickstand of some sort that he could deploy when not in motion. In fact he was learning very quickly that he would need his own human kickstand as well if he was going to be of any use to anyone. Where he would obtain a prosthetic in this world was problematic. Hopping back over to the counter he sat again and paged back to the section on amputation. There was a short blurb on prosthesis and he was emboldened by the image of the running attachment they had developed for soldiers who had lost limbs during service. That's what he wanted. As well as being able to move, he thought it looked pretty awesome. It looked like a leaf spring curved into a hook, much better than the peg leg he was imagining previously.

Turning back to the maps he focused on North Carolina. There was a VA Hospital in Ashville; it looked to be the farthest away from the main population centers on the coast. If Francis and Zoey agreed to it that was where they would head. For a minute he wondered what DC must be like. They had to have evacuated the President and Congress upon the initial outbreak. Chances are it was a ghost town... or a pool of infected. He didn't want to consider the possibilities; he just wanted to be sure they avoided it. It was a disaster as it was trying to escape their much smaller metropolitan town in Pennsylvania.

He wondered what lay between them in Florida. Even if they tried to avoid people it didn't mean they would be able to. What kind of infected would they find? Would there be areas the disease hadn't spread yet? Based on what he observed and learned from the television broadcasts, it originated from somewhere in the south east as it was moving very rapidly west across the United States. The Military was doing what they could to contain it, but was failing. You just can't stop airborne contagions, though they seemed to have a bit of luck at bodies of water as the infected couldn't swim. Unless it was a particularly windy day, there was a slim chance of the particles drifting more than twenty feet. Maybe the Mississippi would be a viable barrier, but he doubted it. They would have to blow up every bridge across the thousand mile length of the river. If the infected didn't travel north past Minneapolis it might be plausible to set up good enough barriers if they mobilized the National Guard components in each state. For now, he estimated they were trying to keep it out of Indiana. There was also the weather to contend with. Winter would be rolling in quickly in the Northern states and that could either be very good... or very bad.

What he feared was that once a vaccine was created, millions who were already infected would have to be exterminated. The extreme level of necrosis decay in the infected appeared irreversible, almost as if it was eating them from the inside out. Maybe the answers rested in the carriers. As far as he could tell there were no immune. You either carried the virus or succumbed to it. There was no guarantee that the three of them still wouldn't turn at some point.

There were so many questions, yet he remained confident. Survival was possible with his friends; they had the right tools, crude as they were. He would collect all he could on their way to safety and once he was there, he would do everything in his power to decode the mystery.

Louis had never felt so empowered; he had a mission and a purpose in life. It was a challenge he was ready to accept and he knew his friends would be there ready to do what it took- if Francis could stay focused. Thankfully Zoey seemed to be taking on that job personally.

That being said, it didn't mean Francis was a burden, quite the opposite. He was a mountain of muscle that just needed to be aimed in the right direction. Deep beneath the tattoos and scowls he was a nice guy, with his own twisted sense of humor. Louis admired him for his brashness and conviction, and respected him for his ability to do so while the world was consumed by the infection. As negative as his words were at times, they were betrayed by the mischievous spirit behind them. He was at his core a survivor, something that he possessed long before the infection devastated the country. Francis was his polar opposite in mind, body, and life experience. He was the kind of guy they couldn't do without, and Louis was dammed glad he trusted Zoey's decision to keep him around, and that Francis actually decided to stick with them for the long haul.

Crossing his arms on the counter he rested his chin on his forearms. Taking in the three bikes before him, he sadly wished there were four. He would regret until his dying day being unable to bury Bill properly. It was unfitting an end for a man that had given them the ultimate sacrifice, and so much more. Single handedly he had cracked Francis's stone wall, steered Louis toward purpose, and gave Zoey a rock to cling to while the world was spiraling out of control. He was practically a father to all of them. In the short month they had together, Bill had fostered a functionally dysfunctional little family. It would be hard to continue on without him, but he had instilled the knowledge and skills in them they would need to survive.

Louis picked up Francis's pocket knife, opened it, and caught his eyes reflecting back to him in the blade. Standing from the stool he hopped over to the trailer of the bike, opened the knife and began carving. He spent a good twenty minutes scraping and digging into the steel hatch. When he finished he wiped off the metal shavings and took a hop back. A little angry angel Bill sneered back up at him. With an approving nod he closed the knife and got to work fabricating the hand pulled balance leg for his bike.

* * *

A few hours later Francis and Zoey returned with a hard slam of the front door. Each clutched a five gallon tank of gasoline. They both slid to the ground against the door out of breath from their sprint. Francis was covered in bile, the stench nearly inspired Louis to eject his dinner.

"Why..." Francis began, trying to catch his breath, "...do boomers and smokers always hang out together?"

Zoey huffed and puffed, eyes wide. "It puked on Francis... and the smoker pulled me out the window. I thought we were dead."

"How did you escape?"

"The smoker pulled me around the corner and it backed into a witch. She was the one we were avoiding to begin with. She absolutely destroyed that smoker. When I opened the door to get back into the building, the boomer was standing there putting the beat on Francis with his army. He puked, I ducked, and he soaked the witch." Zoey's eyes began to water and she fought off a fit of hiccups. "Then the boomer's cronies went after the witch, I grabbed Francis and we got the hell out of there."

"Where was the witch hiding?" Louis asked curiously.

Francis leaned his head back against the door trying to laugh and breathe at the same time. "We had a bet."

Louis stared at him conspicuously. "Oh?"

"I told her that it was probably a tank that killed the owners of all those bikes. She bet it was a witch. We opened the door to the bar they were parked behind to find out."

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Perhaps his confidence in them was too high. "I expect this crap out of him, but you?" She still clung tightly to the gas can, grinning from ear to ear, happy to be alive.

Shaking his head, Louis decided to change the subject before he knocked their heads together. "So, as you have both know, I don't really get around as well as I used to. After doing a little reading and researching the maps I have mapped out a detour on our course, but only if you two agree to it."

They both listened intently and Louis continued.

"There is a VA hospital in North Carolina, inland in a comparably low population area to the one on the coast. They will have special prosthetic that I would be able to run and jump in."

Francis shrugged and stood to his feet, offering Zoey a hand up. "I don't see what the big deal is. Let's do it."

"I agree." Zoey said without hesitation. "You're the navigator, Louis."

Louis had prepared a few arguments for them, not expecting they would agree so easily. They trusted him without question. "Well, ok then. Two more nights here and we will hit the road."

"Good!" Zoey cheered. "I'm going stir crazy and I'm starting to do stupid shit like bet with Francis."

"Yeah, _she's_ doing stupid shit." Francis agreed, ducking out of the way of her swinging gas can. Louis raised an eyebrow. Things had seemed much more casual between them since he woke up. They must have had some eventful days while he was out. He figured they'd either come to an understanding while he was unconscious... or kill each other.

They prepped the bikes that evening for road testing the next day. Francis started and checked the levels on all of them. He helped Louis affix his hand controlled kick stand and they detached the trailer. While he was pouring gas into the tanks, Francis gave Louis a very serious look.

"The shortest range of the three bikes is two hundred miles on one tank."

"Good to know." Louis yawned. The day of activity was wearing thin on his slim reserves of energy. Zoey walked up to him and lifted his arm over her shoulder.

"Let me help you back to your room. I should check the stitches."

"Thanks, Zo." Louis smiled kindly as they limped back through the hallway. Francis stayed out front for a while, tinkering with the bikes.

When he finished he walked back to the apartment, showered, and poured himself a drink. Leaning against the back of the couch, he closed his eyes until the click of the bedroom door alerted to Zoey's presence. Cracking his eyes open, he managed a smirk.

"I can smell you from here and it's not pretty either."

"Ha. Ha." She rolled her eyes.

Francis sat up and picked his drink up off the table. "Seriously though, thanks for saving my ass... and face. You didn't have to agree to lying about some fake bet."

"Yeah." She responded lightly, trying not to show her surprise. "Just... quit being so damn curious all the time, and for crap's sake stop sticking your head in doors it doesn't belong. I don't care how funny it is."

He looked to the ground with a sheepish smile before responding. "But it was funny, right?"

Reflexively Zoey half smiled at the memory and Francis caught it before she could turn away. "Ridiculously."

Francis leaned back into the couch as the bathroom door swung shut and the sound of the gurgling pipes indicating the shower had been started. Taking a slow sip of his drink, he considered the door very carefully under the flickering light of the candles on the coffee table. When he was on his own he wasn't prone to such asinine stunts like that, but around her... it was like he was absolutely helpless. Part of him damn near needed to make her laugh. It was truly a pain in the ass, but Bill was right. She was just too damn likable. He just hoped his driving compulsion to see her good moods wouldn't get them killed in the long run.

With a long sigh, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.


	5. Long Dead Road

Author's note: I am seeking an experienced BETA reader. I've been missing too many errors and redundancies on my own. If interested PM me for more details.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Long Dead Road**

The extra week of rest passed relatively uneventfully. Louis took it easy for the most part, spending most of his time scheming and ploting their escape route when he wasn't trying to prevent Frick and Frack from going out and getting themselves killed. Francis was easily the more troublesome of the two and he put batshit crazy ideas in Zoey's head faster than Louis could quash them. As a result his head often hurt more than his leg, and swarms of infected would show up like dogs at dinnertime in the early evening when the two got the most stir crazy and made the most noise.

It wasn't all bad though. Francis was so incredibly distracting that it kept Zoey and (though he wouldn't like to admit it) _himself_ from focusing on the true direness of their situation. Constantly finding shit to root through, and infected to tease, he was more like a puppy than a damned grown ass man, and too damn funny for words when his curiosity got the best of him.

The best part was that Zoey seemed to finally start relaxing and act more her age. The grey circles under her eyes had faded away after what was coming up on a couple weeks of regular sleep, and now that Louis was well out of the woods she could indulge (against Louis's wishes) in the silliness Francis insisted on tempting her with. She didn't have to pretend to be some woman years beyond her age, or hold the world on her shoulders, she could just be the mischievous college aged kid looking for trouble... which was being stirred up by another person Louis wished _would_ act his age. Then again... maybe said strongperson wasn't letting on to how much he understood the situation and the needs of the young woman, or even Louis himself. Maybe... maybe Bill was right and Francis wasn't half the dolt he tried to lead them to believe. If he was after all, he never would have made it three steps out his front door without getting killed when the infection hit.

Grunting, Louis frowned sourly. If it was true and Francis wasn't a complete moron, that combination of sleeper intelligence and compulsive mischief was probably what lead Louis to his current predicament. _He may not be a total idiot but he's still not the sharpest knife in the drawer. So why the hell did you listen to him, Louis?_

It was common knowledge that neither he or Zoey knew how to actually ride a bike. Francis immediately buried the idea of a training day in their heads a week earlier, and agreeing to it had finally hatched into some sort of shared psychosis between the two students. In his much more rational mind they'd have gone out of town and Francis would teach them one by one how to shift, turn, and just plain not fall over.

But no. Francis had another idea. _And you listened to it! Genius my ASS!_ One that Zoey liked better... for a while anyway: stay in town, in front of the safety of the store.

_I'll watch your back_, he said. _It will be fun_, he said. _It's easy you sissy_, he said.

_Asshole._

It turned out that Francis was a less than forgiving instructor, which Louis should have seen coming, considering the giant of a man barely had the patience to open a can of soup. However his methods got results. If it wasn't for the hungry infected chasing them down the road every once in a while, it may have taken _days_ to get the hang of the shifting and steering, not to mention doing so under duress!

Not that they didn't have days to do it in, end of the world and all, but once again, Francis had no effing patience.

Francis also thought everything was going swimmingly. There was no reason to actually shoot the zombies unless they within attainable reach of his students. Besides, it was just too damn entertaining to watch Louis and Zoey scream like weenie little girls while continuously popping the clutch as they tried to change gears. He spent the lesson sitting in a lawn chair on the porch of the liquor store with his shotgun by his side. Every now and then he would take a drink out of the long island iced tea he whipped up.

The real pity was that he didn't have any ice.

"FRANCIS HELP US!" Zoey shrieked, driving back and forth in front of him with three infected limping after her. She still couldn't get out of first gear, the damn thing just kept grinding! Pushing his sunglasses up on his forehead Francis slurped the rest of his drink out of the glass through a straw, then winged it at the fastest of the infected. Catching it's attention, he raised his shotgun with one arm and dispatched it when it started running in his direction.

"You only got two chasing you. Hurry up and put it in second gear."

"I caaaaaan't!"

"I showed you three times! Now get them smart hands moving!"

"I NEVER SAID I HAVE SMART FEET!"

Leaning back in the chair he flicked his sunglasses back down over his eyes and imitated his students. "_Help me, Francis! It's eating my face, Francis!_ Yeesh you two whine a lot." He picked another glass out of the box on his left and mixed another drink.

Louis drove by yelling a whole string of obscenities. An infected had caught up with him and was trying to scratch his way on the bike. Raising his pistol, Francis picked it off with three quick shots then took another long drink.

"Don't shoot at me!" Louis cried indignantly.

"_I'm not!_ I am shooting at vampires, and I just saved your stubby life, so you should be more grateful!" Francis beamed.

"I WILL KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP, FRANCIS!" Louis raged as he turned the bike back around, approaching the end of the street. He really wouldn't, but he was strongly considering it at the moment. Unfortunately his sour mood just made Francis happier; his own usual impenetrable shield of sunshine and rainbows was absent.

"Not my fault you two can't shift for shit. Clutch, shift, clutch, shift. No complex fractions or nothing."

Zoey yelped when she finally hit her rhythm and slipped into second gear. Her bike lurched forward away from her pursuers, and the ride smoothed out considerably. The bike was very quick and she took to steering it surprisingly well. Noticing her growing confidence Francis picked up a crowbar and walked to the edge of the porch and held it out.

"I knew it wouldn't take _you_ long." Francis mumbled to himself then barked at the young woman. "Zoey, ever heard of mailbox baseball?"

"Of course."

"Same thing but with zombies and a crowbar. Louis is having an issue with that hungry fella over there."

Zoey steered her bike next to the porch retrieved the crowbar then proceeded to follow and circle Louis the rest of the lesson, picking off any zombies that got too close. Eventually they both grew comfortable with shifting and steering their new bikes and spent a good hour zooming up and down the road, weaving in and out of cars and the street lines. Beating Zoey's expectations; it actually turned out to be a lot of fun. Of course playing zombie whack-a-mole didn't detract from her enjoyment any.

"And people thought the end of the world would be no fun." Francis thought aloud from his leisurely recline in the chair as the lessons were wrapping up.

"Still hate you, Francis." Louis snipped cheaply after he parked his bike and hopped his way back into the store. He enjoyed the hell out of the day as well, but he wasn't about to let Francis know it. Ever.

"That's the spirit! I didn't think you had it in you, Louis!"

Pausing in the door, he looked over his shoulder at the back of the man's head and stubbornly smiled. That moron...that infectiously fun moron. "I can be quite cantankerous if the situation calls for it." Louis testified proudly.

"_Cantankerous_? If I find some grannies at afternoon tea that need offending, I'll let you know."

Louis involuntarily laughed.

Zoey jumped off of her bike and triumphantly walked it up to the porch, grinning from ear to blood spattered ear. "I'm starting to understand you just a little bit more."

Francis and Louis both looked her way. With a small smile Francis responded a bit quieter. "Nothing quite like being on a bike, huh?"

After pulling the bikes back inside they packed and prepped for their final excursion out of Pennsylvania planned for the next morning. Their aim was southwest up into the lower elevations of the mountains, then to pop out into Asheville for their trip to the VA Hospital. It seemed like a good enough route and they hoped it would be completely boring and uneventful.

Exhausted from the day of driving lessons Louis headed off to bed shortly after they finished packing. Francis and Zoey congregated on the couch absentmindedly sipping on a couple of night caps and winding down. She leaned back, gazing at the contents of the small dark room glowing under the moon and candle light.

"I can't believe it, but I think I am going to miss this dump." Zoey concluded aloud, raising her glass to her lips.

Francis snorted. "I _hate_ this dump. Been here what? Two weeks? I hate the walls, the ugly carpet, the moldy smell..." He mumbled and trailed off.

"Of course you do."

He finished off his drink and set the glass on the coffee table. "More shit went down here than I care to recall."

Zoey half smiled and used the best "bro" voice she could muster. "That's pretty deep, man."

Francis rolled his eyes in response.

"I'm serious, _dude_. Mashing soulless vampires isn't the same as removing living flesh from a living body, that's, you know, _still occupied_."

"Yeah." Zoey agreed dryly, downing the last of her drink. She knew what he meant and didn't want to dwell on it any more than he did. "I always feel like Dorothy about to wake up from a dream, but here I am blowing the brains out of those people morning after nauseating morning."

Francis looked back at her seriously. "Stop that. They're _not_ people. Not anymore. Might as well be leather jackets trying to eat our brains. They are empty."

She swallowed hard, stomach twisting at that one memory forever seared into her soul. _He_ was all there when she pulled the trigger. If she had been a coward he'd probably still be alive today; and if those Army doctors were right about the gene being carried on the father's side he was never going to turn. Uncertainly, she looked to Francis. "Francis, have you ever killed a normal person?"

"Oh I've wanted to. Put a few guys in the hospital…some through the window." He chuckled warmly at the memories.

"But you haven't killed anyone?"

"No. Why? ...have you?"

She hesitated, drawing a curious stare. "No... Of course not."

He decided not to push the issue as she nervously looked away and fiddled with the zipper on her coat.

_Normal_ people, she thought. The only ones they had seen in the last month left them for dead on a bridge, even after they went through all that trouble to lower it for them. It was a dumb decision. They should have left it up out of principle; Bill died for the specific purpose of raising that bridge. They could have found their own way around and wasted their false friendly pretense on someone else. Once it had been put down for the last time they couldn't find enough gas to start the generators and put it back up to get the sailboat through.

Zoey, Francis, and Louis didn't have the manpower to do it anyway. Louis was injured and they were still reeling mentally and emotionally from witnessing Bill's gruesome death. Entirely wrecked as a functioning unit, the will to survive was all they could muster as they limped out of town.

The betrayal of those other survivors made Zoey miss everybody she knew or even vaguely knew before the infection. All the normal people that wouldn't push her under the bus for another ten minutes of life. Cynically, she retracted that thought. All the assholes of now were probably decent before the infection, when society dictated what was ok or not and when there were police to enforce it. So many people seemed to be just one slip up away from revealing their true colors. The infection was the slip up for the world and without society there was no longer any pretense to hold everyone in check.

In a sense they were in the old west again. Eat or be eaten, shot or be shot. Take advantage of the young woman before you, or take care of her. She looked to Francis who still considered her thoughtfully but unobtrusively as he sipped his whiskey. Did he ever have the time for pretense in the first place? It seemed he was the kind of man who always laid his cards on the table. Maybe he understood life a bit better than she ever would. He did what he wanted as long as his ingrained moral compass pointed to yes. If it was ok, he would do it, if it was wrong, he wouldn't. There were no exceptions. His morality existed within and it was something that could never be taken away from him. When the world shook, he remained on his own steady ground, and probably still would even if the world righted itself again.

If.

"Do you think we will ever be normal people again?" She asked tiredly.

Calmly he set his glass back down and gave her his full attention. "Do you want an honest answer?" He replied evenly.

Zoey hesitated, unnerved by the intensity of his gaze. "Yes I do."

"No." He replied bluntly, the word slapped her in the face like a wet rag.

"Now lie to me." She asked with a cracking voice. Francis moved back and put an arm up on the ledge of the couch. Waving his free hand in the air to emphasize his words, he took on a insultingly light tone.

"The smartest people in the world are working on this and when they figure it out, they will take us home and live happily ever after with rainbows and butterflies! Then Louis will grow his leg back, and Bill will come back from the dead!"

He was deliberately mocking her, for good reason.

"You're not a good liar."

He furrowed his brow and addressed her seriously. "You know there is no going home, Zoey, and there's no point in making you believe otherwise. Lying would only screw with your head."

"Then why did you lie to me last week? Weren't you just _screwing_ with me when you told me to go be a doctor? Now you say there is no going back. Why even bother fighting!" She accused bitterly.

"Hold on a fucking second! I did _not_ lie. Don't go putting words in my mouth!" He snapped, her bluster immediately winking out. Clenching his jaw as he gathered his thoughts, he put a rope on his temper and started again, much softer. "There is no going _home_. There is no going _back_. There is no reviving the _dead_. What's done is done. That being said, there is _always_ something worth fighting for. There is always moving forward."

"How can you believe that?" She wondered incredulously, keeping her tone in check. "How can you see a light through the forty feet of shit above our heads?"

"There's always been forty feet of shit above my head. That... light is all I ever had, and honestly, princess, right now is not the darkest or deepest it's ever been for me."

"What is it?"

"Huh?"

"Your light at the end of the tunnel."

"Well, Louis wants to save the world." He deflected, looking nervously at the closed bedroom door.

"I'm asking about you."

He knew exactly what she was referring to, but it was too personal a thing to just share with the young woman when he hadn't even faced it down himself. Absently he laid his hand flat on his sternum, compulsively covering the already obscured mark over his heart. Without going down that road, there was plenty to fall back on, like a world without idiot people was nice, it was fun to shoot zombies, he didn't have to answer to anyone, everything was free for the most part, there were no responsibilities, and…

"For one, You're fun." _Of all the shit on the list you picked THAT?_

Zoey's face was blank as she processed her own reaction; she really hadn't been expecting a response like that. She was expecting something about motorcycles or vampire shooting, maybe even something a bit more personal. A grateful smile bloomed on her face as the stress of the moment melted off of her shoulders. She'd settle for now.

"So are you."

He tripped over a few words trying to come up with a snappy response, but he just sat there blankly. Had he actually said the right thing for once?

"Damn it…" He finally cursed under his breath. Backed himself into a corner. AGAIN.

She was endeared by his failure to respond. He was right after all, there was no going home. What was once home was a warzone; what was once her family was only a memory. What she had now was what she had to look forward to and he was right, _they were fun_; the three of them together. She would no longer look back at _normal_ civilization or the memories with anything but fondness. There was no point in pining over the intangible. The door had been slammed shut on that portion of their lives and there literally was no going back.

Moving forward was the only way to go. Whatever that entailed once they did reach safety was entirely up in the air. Doctor, tropical island, death... who knew. Maybe the not knowing was worth looking forward to as well. She'd always wanted some mystery and intrigue in her life.

Francis continued the mad scramble to either say something relevant... or just change the subject. He settled on changing the subject. "You know, this is our last night here. Wanna have some fun?"

Snapped out of her reverie, Zoey gave Francis a suspicious stare. "What kind of fun?"

"Oh come on. Don't you trust me?"

"Francis you find trouble like flies find shit. PG rated fun. No zombies, no violence, no going out, and nothing that would make my grandma blush. I've already showered once tonight."

"PG?" He exclaimed then paused as his brain processed her words. "Wait a fricken minute; are you saying that on other nights you'd be up for doing things that would _make your grandma blush_? And require a shower?"

Zoey's eyes widened. "Wait, what? No!" Just like that, Francis's infuriating side reared its ugly head.

"Cause if you _are-_"

"No!"

"But you said-"

"Francis for the love of GOD I will shoot you again!"

"Your grandma would definitely disapprove of that."

"You don't know my grandma!"

"Then enlighten me on what would make her blush." He hiked up a hopeful eyebrow, knowing he was treading dangerous water, but it was preferable to the earlier discussion. What concerned him was the deep red color of her face. Was it rage or embarrassment? He knew he'd get clocked one way or another.

Zoey froze. Her heart was pounding, but she couldn't tell if it was rage or something else. Never in her life had anyone even been able to set her on fire so easily. He pushed her buttons like he had his own personal tv remote to change her channels. Jumping to her feet she spun to face him and seethed.

"You are the single most irritating person I have ever known!"

Francis responded with a wide smile. "I'd stop if you didn't love it so much!"

"Do I look like I'm having fun?"

"Yes!"

Zoey stripped away her track jacket and threw it at his head. "It's on big man!"

He lurched forward off the couch while he pulled the garment off his face. In that split second she had leapt on the couch then on to his back. As fast as she could she wrapped her arms around his neck and attempted to put a sleeper hold on him.

Francis was shocked. Was that tiny woman actually trying to knock him out? Once her arms tightened like a small vice grip around his neck, he did the only thing he could think to do.

He sat down.

Though his vision was growing fuzzy he launched himself backward onto the couch and smiled when he felt the gush of air by his ear. In a split second she relaxed her hold and began to gasp as she tried to push him away. He sucked in his own deep breath upon release and rolled off of her. They sat side by side on the couch, giving each other the stinkeye.

Zoey hadn't had the air knocked out of her like that since she was last constricted by a smoker. Lolling her head to look over at Francis, she finally cracked a smile. His chest shuddered as he tried to laugh and breathe at the same time. She let out her own raspy chuckle and reached out to grab his forearm.

"Where in hell did you learn to use a sleeper hold?"

"My dad!" She exhaled and within a second grief dampened her mood like a wet rag on a fire. Francis rigidly sat up straight, eyeing her warily as she stood and walked to the other side of the room, arms tightly across her chest. She looked out the small window, past the beer bottle for Bill. The moon was insanely bright again. Francis watched silently, desperately trying figure out what changed her mood so drastically _again_. Was she on the rag? Whatever the case he knew not to ask. He preferred life.

She couldn't handle the churning in her stomach anymore just because a stray memory popped into her head, or out of her mouth. Earlier she had actually hoped Francis had killed someone, just so her misery could have had company. When he confirmed he had not, she felt even worse for wanting to believe such a horrible thing about someone else just to ease her own torment.

"I killed my dad."

The hairs prickled on the back of his neck as he rose cautiously to his feet. What she had said simply wasn't possible. Girls like her don't kill anyone. "Bullshit."

"When the infection hit, my mom turned. She bit me and Dad shot her. Before she… died…" Choking, Zoey wiped her eyes and turned to face Francis. "Before she died, she bit my dad. He pushed his pistol on me, demanded that I shoot him before he turned. I tried to argue with him, but… but…"

"You did it."

Zoey nodded, wiping her eyes.

"And those damn Army doctors! They said the carrier gene was on the father's side. He was never going to turn. I _murdered_ him!"

"No... just _no_." Francis assured her, relief in his voice. He'd witnessed murder first hand, even had to clean up after it on more than one occasion. What she described was not murder. "You were just being a good kid."

"Then why did I let Bill die too!"

"Bill chose to die, Zoey. He was a full-grown crusty old man that could tie his own combat boots."

"He slipped right through my fingers!" She breathed, walking the edge of hysterics.

"That's not how I remember it."

"It's how I remember it!"

"Well, did you respect them?" He asked, taking a few steps forward. His question knocked her out of the spiral with its digression.

"What?"

"Did you respect Bill and your father?"

"What kind of question is that, Francis?"

"Answer it." He demanded with a hint of irritation. Her face softened; then twisted with anguish.

"Of course I did. I _loved_ them."

"There you go." He walked up and placed his hands on her shoulders and stared unwaveringly into her eyes. "_That_ alone is worth dying for."

"I don't understand."

He dismissed her with a wave. "Don't try to understand. It's a man thing. I don't understand half the goofy ass woman shit you do."

"Explain anyway, please."

Frustrated, Francis dropped his arms and then rubbed the back of his neck; it was getting too personal. "Your father and Bill both weighed it out. Giving you a better chance at life was enough to sacrifice their own."

"Why is my life worth two? What makes me so damn _special_? Francis?"

The flurry of her questions was wearing thin on him. "We can't exactly ask them, can we?" He snapped. She sheepishly backed away.

"No. I'm sorry for the interrogation and ruining the fun. Goodnight." Zoey walked over to the couch and dejectedly lay down. Francis ambled into the kitchen and poured himself another drink after he sat down at the table. He leaned back in the chair and heaved a long breath.

It wasn't how he wanted that conversation to end, but there were some things that were best left alone. Bill told him in confidence about the tumor doctors were going to cut out of his lung, ironically on the day the infection broke out. He didn't want the pity the others would have heaped on him, even putting themselves in danger out of some jacked up sense of modern nobility to save the weak and infirm. Bill was neither of those even in his illness. There was merely a timer on his life and he had every intention of getting his money's worth before the ding. Of course he wasn't looking to die. He would have gladly finished the expedition to Florida and spent the last of his days eating fresh seafood laying out on the beach.

The perfect storm had brewed on that day and placed them all on the razor's edge of death, but he was the one destined to stare into the abyss. The desire to save them was Bill's motivation and Francis knew for a fact that Bill made every effort to come back alive, but was simply outnumbered. Even though the odds had been stacked heavily against him, Francis honestly believed he was going to come trotting back once the seas had calmed with another pissy war story. _Hoped more than thought_, he concluded. The only reason he had known it was the end was because Bill had never asked anyone to look after Zoey before. That duty was simply too precious to him to give up which meant he knew he wasn't going to make it back. Francis's last hope for Bill was that he was able to die with a curse in his eyes, cigarette in his mouth, and gun in hand. It was what he wanted, and it was what he deserved.

Letting out a long slow breath, he took another shot of liquid confidence. Hearing Zoey's story, he knew her father felt exactly the same. The old man would have rather died than even entertained the notion that he might possibly attack her if he turned, which was a very strong possibility without knowing about some Army "hereditary" bullshit they "thought" might be true. He trusted her to do the right thing and she did. She always did.

Scowling, Francis took another quick shot.

All of the above racked Zoey with survivor's guilt she didn't deserve. Any man who knew her well enough would be proud to sacrifice himself for her livelihood. Though he understood why Bill and her father did what they did, it was not from a _fatherly_ viewpoint. What he feared the most at this venture was what may be revealed in his efforts to help her gain closure. For some damn woman reason, she needed to _understand _and while he wouldn't normally care about her brooding, it was affecting her ability to stay focused. They couldn't leave the safety of the store with her in this condition; they needed her at 100% zombie killing awesomeness.

He considered another shot then capped the bottle; he was going to have to do it though he honestly believed he still shouldn't, but the group's well being depended on it. Taking a deep breath he stood from the kitchen table and tried to muster the courage to walk back into the living room. Pausing at the threshold he leaned against the door frame and studied her slender shape on the couch. He fully expected this to end poorly for him, but when it came right down to it: it was for her. At least he didn't have to die. With one last muttered curse he walked over and sat on the coffee table, facing the small window.

"You're probably awake already, so I'll make this quick." He turned a quick glance at her. She didn't move, but her sleep tempo breathing ceased and she was silent. Francis was grateful and continued. "Don't move. This is hard enough as it is. The truth is that you _are_ special, Zoey. You worm your way to the inside of people without much effort at all. Just like this. Look at me babbling like some stupid kid about feelings. I _hate_ feelings." He chuckled nervously, paused to compose himself, and continued.

"You want to understand so I will explain the best I can. Bill and your father loved you like crazy, and both knew they only had a short time to live. I wasn't supposed to tell you, but Bill was dying. He had some nasty cancer in his lungs. Go figure, right? Anyway, he didn't throw his life away, the sacrifice gave it purpose. They both went on their own terms, your dad and Bill." He paused as his mouth dried up. Searching for help he gazed up at the bright moon. Might as well just bite the bullet. "Zoey, you just bring out the best parts of people. Just look at Bill. He was a crusty old bastard and you softened him right up. I hope this all makes sense to you in some retarded way. I…"

"Francis." Her voice was low and soft, prompting him to turn to face her in surprise. "I understand."

"You do?" He slouched over in relief trying to ignore the outright appreciation on her face. Dealing with that kind of emotion was well above his pay grade.

"Yes. I do. Men have this ridiculous need to be the hero all the time. My dad was no exception. Bill was the poster child... actually you're not far off the mark either." She blinked a couple times, a couple small streams slid down her cheeks. She laughed self consciously and looked for something to wipe her eyes with. Francis handed the jacket to her, making eye contact for a brief second when she relinquished it from him. He dropped his hand but her gaze did not waver. She remained focused on him; considering him as he shifted uncomfortably.

"What?" He asked defensively. Zoey placed the jacket beside her on the couch. Her mind blanked as she watched him; the myriad of expressions crossing his face drawing her deeper into reflection. Maybe he wasn't such an obstinate jackass after all. Then again, maybe she was finally taking the time to see what was just beneath the rough edges. A warm smile thawed her face.

"I wasn't expecting you... to do that. Was a bit out of your comfort zone."

He snorted, crossing his arms. "You think? Just don't go blabbing to Louis about it. And for fuck's sake, let's ease up on all the _feelings_ for a while. I'm not a damn shrink."

"Fine, as long as you don't either."

"About what?" Francis scowled. Nothing he had said in the last several minutes was anything he would volunteer to Louis. "Like I wou-" He stopped speaking when she calmly stood from the couched, bent over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. He remained still, seized by shock. Was that a thank you? Was it a mistake? What... "What- what the hell was _that_?" Francis exclaimed.

"It was goodnight... and thank you. You're not half the bastard you make yourself out to be." She bid and laid back on the couch. Facing the wall, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and bit her cheek in an effort to suppress a grin. Francis opened his mouth but no words were forthcoming. She finally got the last word in.

"Huh." He grunted in surrender and left the coffee table to return to the kitchen.

He _needed_ another drink.

Or three.

* * *

They left just after sunrise the next morning and took the road southwest. It was already late November going by Louis's atomic wristwatch. The trees were colorful in the early dawn light but most of the leaves had since fallen. The air was crisp and refreshing, a nice change from the musky and stuffy liquor store and the perpetual stench of decay in the city.

Louis woke up that morning with a bit of apprehension. Though he had enough practice riding the bike, he still was unsure how he would fare on the open road without being able to return to the safety of the liquor store. It was unnerving to think what would happen if they suddenly got overwhelmed by the horde; if the bike fell over… if he fell over. It was a terrifying prospect in spite of the confidence he had in his fellow travelers to stand by him in that sort of emergency. Such an event was inevitable but he hoped it would occur _after_ he was proficient with a prosthetic, assuming they would even find something suitable in the VA. All he needed was to be able to run.

He was also tired, so he wasn't as sharp as usual. For the first night since habituating in the liquor store he hadn't slept. He yawned and forced himself to focus. Their next concern as they headed into the mountain region was warmth. They would need to find the appropriate clothing before they ventured too far when the weather degraded.

Even though it made travelling easier Louis was disconcerted by the lack of road barriers or signs of any kind. It seemed that the government had just forfeited the mountain areas to the infection and in turn all the people who had lived there. He hoped they were as isolated as they seemed. They might be the last hold out for humanity if the world at large was never able to recover or stop the disease.

Having travelled for several hours they came upon a small abandoned town in the foothills. Signs of the infection were unmistakable; it didn't look much different than the images of war often put on TV. Buildings were in ruin, and cars and corpses were strewn about the streets.

It appeared that this particular town had been swept quickly. Dried out corpses littered the street and there was no remnant signs of CEDA anywhere. They didn't have a chance in hell at defending themselves or escaping.

Passing a sign that said 'Welcome to Homewood', Francis pulled his bike to a stop in the middle of main street and cut his engine. Zoey and Louis followed suit. They sat in silence for several minutes with their weapons in hand. There was nothing but the creaking sounds of a couple metal signs swaying in the wind. No animals, people, or infected that they could see.

With each passing second Zoey felt a growing uneasiness creep up her spine that made her little hairs stand on end. Her instinctual reactions were demanding a hasty retreat. "It's a tomb."

Louis and Francis remained silent for a couple more minutes. Louis reached in his bag and pulled out a pipe bomb. "I don't want to be surprised." He said while lighting and enabling the explosive. He threw the device quite a ways down the street. They covered their ears as it exploded, then they waited some more.

Still _nothing_.

"Ghost town." Francis said quietly, fighting his own guttural reaction as adrenaline surged in his blood. "This place ain't right. We're leaving."

Louis and Zoey agreed. There was a malevolent air that was putting them all on alert. Even if there weren't any infected there was something very off. Every town they had driven through had at least one or two infected that would chase them out. Louis had theorized that they would eventually find empty towns, but this was on another level entirely. It was barren.

"Something very bad happened here." Zoey said under her breath.

"Do you think we should check that general store for supplies?" Louis asked to no one in particular.

Francis shook his head, growing more unnerved as the seconds passed. Something was even off about the bodies that littered the streets. "No. We need to leave now. I mean, Look at them. The bodies are untouched, it's like they laid down and went to sleep. I've never seen an infected attack end with whole bodies. There aren't any flies or maggots either."

Zoey started up her bike as her stomach twisted into something resembling panic. "He's right. There will be another town." Francis and Louis followed suit and they left in a hurry.

* * *

After passing through the ghost town they drove for another 20 miles before settling on community that was less than deserted. There was still a fair amount of infected milling about in search of a good meal, which was strangely comforting after Homewood. They agreed to setup camp in the local general store for the remainder of the night. The sliding doors had been chained shut and there were bars on all the windows. Francis and Zoey fended off a steady stream of infected as Louis picked at the door lock.

"I bet people used to think he was paranoid." Louis joked grimly.

"Maybe he was psycho." Francis responded absently, receiving a snort from Zoey.

"You mean psychic."

"Maybe both, smartass."

Louis chuckled then grunted in frustration. Rolling his eyes Francis pushed him out of the way, reached in his boot and pulled out a small leather case. He shoved his shotgun to Louis

"Behind you."

Louis spun around and began shooting while leaning against the building. He peered back at Francis curiously as he pulled out a couple thin metal picks from the case. Louis heard a few clicks, then the handle turning, and the door swung open.

"This isn't a new thing for you, is it?"

"You're _welcome_." Pulling out his pistols Francis walked in the door. Louis heard a few shots fire over the next couple of minutes before Francis emerged again. "Clear."

"Why didn't you use those tools at the liquor store?"

"No time. Was trying to hold up your broken ass and open the door. "

Francis helped Louis limp in the store and Zoey followed behind them, shutting and locking the door. They left the bikes outside as the infected had no real interest in them.

Turning around, Zoey snorted in surprise as she fleeced the contents of the store with her gun light. "Holy hicktown, Batman." It was filled with hunting equipment and paraphernalia, bike clothing and accessories, and camping equipment. Camouflage and hunter orange covered just about every product in sight. "I thought this was a general store?"

"It is. In the foothills... and it's hunting season." Francis informed her while thumbing through some coats.

"You think they would have been better prepared then." Louis commented hoping over to a low display to sit.

"At least we can find some supplies for the weather coming up." Zoey added, examining the ammo stacked up behind the glass counter. There was more than they could carry.

"What do you think?" Francis asked and Zoey turned around with several boxes in her arms. He had found an insulated black leather riding jacket.

"Suits you." She nodded and dropped the boxes on the counter. "Any women's?"

Francis perked up at the idea. "Yes. Some leather pants too...chaps maybe..." He hinted tilting his head as he watched her go through the short aisle shelves, but Zoey didn't bite.

"Helmets here too." Louis called from across the store.

They spent the rest of the evening stocking up on bedding, clothing, freeze dried meals, and ammo. Once they had all they could feasibly carry they settled down into a circle in the supply room with the door locked. They spread out the sleeping bags and went through their loot. Zoey had almost completely changed wardrobes. She had shelved her converse in favor of some heavier duty but flexible black boots, found a nice insulated black jacket of her own and thermal riding pants for later when the weather turned heavy. Her track jacket remained on as she wasn't ready to part with it yet. Louis had found a few pairs of pants that he spent a few hours cutting and sewing to fit his new inseam as well as a warm jacket. They all found some gloves and ear coverings as well.

"Shoe shopping is a lot easier these days." Louis quipped as he tried on a boot. "Think they'll give me half off?"

Francis frowned. "Shit, Louis, that was just awful. How do you sleep at night?"

"About half as well as I used to." Louis grinned. Francis just groaned and shook his head.

Zoey giggled at the exchange while she tightened her own boots. She would have never picked the styles for herself, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Standing to her feet she walked around to see what they felt like. They were surprisingly cushioned and comfortable, and the steel toe and heel felt powerful.

"Hey, we have a regular GI Jane over here." Francis commented while tearing into a bag of freeze dried buffalo chicken.

"I feel butch. Can't say I like it."

"Can't say I don't." He replied, crunching on spoonful of food. Zoey waved him off and played with the fasteners on the jacket.

"It's very warm, I'll give it that." She winced hearing Francis's crunches on a mouthful of food. "Oh, Lord, my teeth are aching just hearing that. You gotta let it sit a while Francis, the water needs to soak in." She fixed up her own meal and set it aside.

"I like it crunchy." Francis lied indignantly, too embarrassed to stop that late in the bag. Louis chuckled to himself and shook his head.

After staring idly at her new boots for a minute, Zoey sighed and unlocked the door to the main store. "I'm going to go explore a minute while my meal softens."

"Have fun." Louis yawned, stirring his own. Francis continued to indignantly crunch away.

Out by herself in the dark room she made her way through the camping equipment. Casually perusing the flashlight selection she picked up a curious little package. It was an LED head light with a few sets of spare batteries listed as a selling point the wrapping. Sitting down on the metal shelving she pulled out her new buck knife and pried it open and put it together, pocketing the spare batteries in an interior pocket in her track jacket. Adjusting the strap to her head she was pleasantly surprised by the field of vision that opened up before her when she hit the on button. The blue light bounced off all corners of the store and conveniently shown wherever she turned her head. "Heh, spiffy."

Picking up a couple more for Francis and Louis she continued her shopping excursion, acquiring a basket on the way. There wasn't much else that seemed all that necessary to pack onto her bike or in her backpack until she reached the battery section. While she couldn't possibly haul all the batteries she would ever need, there were two products that caught her attention. Kneeling over she picked up two different packages. One was a wind up mini power generator and flashlight/radio combination with a USB plug, the second a fold up solar panel charger with a USB plug. Both were small and light and held the potential to help her do something she had desperately wanted to do since the infection began.

Reaching in an inner coat pocket she pulled out a small rectangular device with head phones and a USB cord. She honestly never thought she'd get to charge her Ipod again. Throwing the solar panel in the basket for obvious reasons, she opened up the crank charger. Plugging in the USB cable she began to steadily crank away. After a couple minutes the small screen glowed to life. She would have to crank for a good couple hours to get more than an hour's worth of charge, but at this point it would be worth it. Giddily she put on her earphones, kicked up a playlist then continued cranking.

The music itself didn't comfort her, but the meditative familiarity of the melodies soothed her. It was absolutely wonderful to feel relaxed and be taken back to a time in her dorm before the madness had descended upon the world.

She picked up movement out of the corner of her eye and with a flash pulled out her pistol and aimed it. Smiling when her target stepped in range of her headlight she holstered her gun again and patted the metal shelving next to her. It was comical watching him squish his long legs as he lowered himself to her perch. Pulling out one ear bud she resumed cranking on the mini generator.

"What's up, Francis?"

"Uh, your food is ready." He said handing her the lukewarm bag.

"Thanks." She nodded, setting the bag off to the side and resumed cranking. Francis stared at her with traces of concern, wondering what the hell she'd gotten into.

"What are you doing?"

Zoey chuckled. "Charging my Ipod."

"Seriously?"

Picking the free earbud off her shoulder he popped it in his ear.

_...I'm watching you two from the closet, wishing to be the friction in your jeans..._

Zoey's mouth hung open in horror. Francis raised an eyebrow and shot her a smirk.

"You picked a bad time to jump in that one." She said weakly, swallowing hard then hit the forward button.

"I liked it." He took the earbud out and stood. Holding out his hand with a sly smile he pulled her up to her feet. "Though I've never had reason to hate jeans before." She picked up her food and began walking away. She couldn't contain her grin.

"Or hot rumbling bikes?" She added shamelessly over her shoulder, turning around to catch his smile fading away. His eyes glazed over as he followed the train of thought.

"Francis?"

"Huh?"

"Let's go eat." She laughed, smiling to herself. She won a round...finally.

Francis glided past her, melodically mumbling the lyrics to the song. "_I'm wishing to be the friction in your jeans_."

"That's... that's not how it goes!" Zoey choked in surprise, dropping her food. He looked back curiously at her open mouth surprise with the splat of the bag.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Her voice cracked. She knelt and steadied herself on the ground as she collected the bag. When she rose, Francis's curiosity had shifted into a knowing grin.

"Hey, guys, look here!" Louis echoed from the storage room. Francis shook his head and turned to walk away.

"So much for that...food." Zoey chuckled self consciously; Francis took to whistling the melody out of sight. She closed her eyes for a brief second, trying to calm the twisting in her chest then followed. She lost that one hard.

Louis was pouring over the maps as she entered. Francis sat on his sleeping bag looking as well, putting together the headlight she picked up for him.

"We are here." Louis pointed with conviction to a dot on the paper. "We travelled 185 miles today. Another day of similar travel and we should reach the VA. We will continue along the mountains and cut over the hills to come into the northern part of the city."

Zoey sat back down on the sleeping bag, stirring her half empty bag. "Is it just me or does it seem like CEDA abandoned these mountain people?"

"Just not enough manpower left to send out here." Louis responded, folding the paper back up. "Look how overrun they were in the city. I can't tell you how many infected I shot that had soldier uniforms on."

"Yeah." She agreed grimly. "I remember an alarming amount."

Francis finished up his meal and tossed the bag off to the side. "Speaking of CEDA. How come I never heard of them until this all started? I thought FEMA, the CDC, or some other bullshit government group was supposed to handle national emergencies."

His companions sat silently for a second. Louis looked down to the map then back up to Francis.

"Holy shit, you're right. Now that I think about it, I never heard of CEDA prior to this either. It's almost like they said they were government and people just believed them. I didn't see any CEDA materials at that Army FOB. They didn't talk about them at all."

Zoey shifted uncomfortably. "Then who the hell is CEDA?"

Louis looked to Francis then back to Zoey, furrowing his brow as he drudged his memories. "I don't know, guys."

* * *

Up with the sun the next morning they set out again in the midst of a crowd of hungry infected. Following the back roads through the foothills took more time but was definitely more scenic and undoubtedly safer. They didn't run into any large numbers of infected and the roads were very clear. Anyone who had made it that far away from the cities were generally in the clear. Every once in a while a deer would bound away from the road at their presence. Squirrels and birds were abundant, clearly unaffected by the infection.

The hospital was in the north eastern Asheville. To find easy access to it and attract as little attention as possible they made their way through the hills until they were about 5 miles north of the city. Tucked back in the woods they found an old cabin up a grown over side road that appeared to have been abandoned years before. It was a small building, probably only 700 square feet. Boards covered the windows and leaf material heavily covered the roof. Working his magic Francis opened the back door with a click and shouldered the door in an effort to make the rusted hinges give way.

Once in the building Francis coughed. It was dusty, but appeared to be water tight. There was very little must. The windows, though boarded from the outside were intact on the inside. The furniture was in great shape, covered in plastic sheeting, and the kitchen had fairly new appliances.

"Huh." Louis grunted in surprise. "I bet this was someone's summer cabin. Probably unable to sell and repossessed when the market crashed."

"Works for me." Zoey said gleefully, ripping the plastic sheeting off the couches.

There was a detached garage behind the cabin, probably bigger than the cabin itself. Francis made his way out to it and picked the lock. Sliding the large door open by hand he was greeted by a fully stocked mechanic's garage. Parked in the middle was a multitude of four wheelers, dirt bikes, and buggies. "This guy loved his toys."

Beyond that though was the most beautiful sight he'd seen in days. A five hundred gallon tank of gas was built into the side of the wall. The translucent plastic showed it to be about half full.

He knew instantly how they were going to get to the VA. They couldn't risk losing their own bikes, but those were all expendable. He had a feeling that the horde in the city would be big enough to prevent them from getting out on noisy machines, though getting in wouldn't be a problem. They would just have to pray that the prosthetic would be sustainable for propelling Louis out of the city on foot.

There were spare parts and tools galore. Francis picked up any and everything he thought he could use later on their bikes.

"Hey Francis?" Zoey called from the entrance, a few logs of firewood in hand. "Can you help me carry some of this in the house? Louis found a fireplace and is going to start a fire before it gets dark."

"Yeah." He replied and followed her, sure to lock the garage on his way out. If someone was going to stumble on them in the night he wasn't about to leave that stash open for picking.

There seemed to be half a forest's worth of dried firewood on the side of the garage. Francis helped her carry in several bundle's worth. Once they had the wood needed they loaded up the fireplace and the wood burning stove in the corner of the room.

"This cabin never had power." Louis confirmed to the both of them as he hopped out of an adjoining room. "No light fixtures anywhere. Dude was totally going rustic and had candles coming out his ears." He finished pulling out a bulk package of candles still wrapped in cellophane. Zoey helped him to the armchair and began setting candles all over the room.

There was one main room connecting the kitchen and living area, and two adjoining bedrooms connected to a restroom. However they would sleep out in front of the fireplace together. In this stage of their lives, the comfort of privacy in their own rooms was outweighed by the need for security. You just never knew was would jump out of the shadows.

Zoey set a tea kettle full of water on the wood burning stove for their freeze dried dinners. Francis sat on the hearth of the fireplace, prodding the fire with the poker. Louis considered him suspiciously.

"You're awfully quiet, Francis. Should I be concerned?"

"Thinking, Louie."

"Don't hurt yourself, uh, Franny." Zoey snorted.

"Har har." Francis responded waving the red hot poker at her. With a squeak she jumped away to go settle on the couch. "That garage is full of ATV's, bikes, and buggies and a shit ton of gas. I'm trying to figure out what would be the safest to drive into town with."

"ATV huh? I can do four wheels." Louis responded, interested.

"Do you think you'll be able to walk out?" Francis asked seriously. "If it's anything like the cities in Penn, we won't be able to drive out."

"What if we find a saferoom?" Zoey added thoughtfully, "If we can get the prosthetic, we could stay in there a few days while he worked it."

"I think that would work." Louis agreed.

"Alright, we can head out in the morning." Francis said with finality. Zoey frowned for a moment then caught Francis's attention.

"What about me? You only mentioned two vehicles."

"I need you to ride shotgun with me. Literally. Louis can steer an ATV with one hand."

"Oh, ok. Maybe I can try out this baseball bat I found. You know; some real zombie baseball."

"You are sick and twisted, woman." Louis said slowly, giving Zoey quite the stare. Francis laughed and grinned at his incredulous friend.

"I know, right? It's so-"

The tea kettle began to whistle.

"_Hot_ water is ready!" Zoey chirped, thankful for the timing. Louis just really didn't need to know about their misadventures. Her memories practically played back like a Three Stooges clip, though they did elicit a chuckle every now and then. They each opened their bags as she poured the hot water in. "It tastes a bit like the well, but it's clean."

They waited a few minutes for the food to soften up in the bags while watching the fire. Francis sat on the ground leaning back against the couch Zoey took residence on. Louis rested comfortably in the large plush arm chair with his partial leg up on the ottoman. If they let their minds drift they could have imagined themselves out on a friendly camping trip. Sadly, their current accommodations felt more like elaborate luxury than rustic and quaint, and though they were going to use the toys the next morning, it wasn't going to be fun or recreational.

"I don't hate this buffalo chicken." Francis commented as he finished eating, looking to the bottom of the bag for any delinquent scraps.

"I wouldn't mind some real chicken wings though..." Zoey frowned at the memory of better food then her eyes lit up. "Do they have wild chickens in Florida?"

Louis perked up. "Actually, yes. Especially in the keys. They're like rats out there."

"Oh man, that's actually worth looking forward to."

"I'm looking forward to the beach." Francis commented slyly.

"You don't seem like the type." Louis responded curiously.

"Zoey does." He chuckled, receiving a pillow to the side of the head.

"You just keep your eyes on your face!" She choked out, eyes watering as she cleared the food out of her windpipe.

All three of them laughed. Louis leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I'm looking forward to falling asleep to the ocean rolling on the beach."

"And not worrying about being eaten alive while doing so." Zoey added dreamily.

Louis continued. "That too. We need to make sure we have fishing equipment on the boat we take."

"Maybe we should find a few pigs to bring too. I make some damn good ribs." Francis said, dismayed his stomach growled at the thought.

"Hmm... Ribs, wings, and fresh seafood on my tropical island in the sun." Zoey sighed with a smile.

"Grass skirt, Zoey. Say it with me, _I need to wear a grass skirt on my tropical island in the sun_." Francis prodded, grinning as he motioned to some far away island paradise with his hands.

Not amused, Zoey narrowed her eyes before responding. "If _you_ want to wear one it's your prerogative, _Franny_."

Louis snorted from his chair. "Thanks a lot Zoey. _That _is the last thing I needed to think about before falling asleep. "

"Whatever. I got the legs for it." Francis yawned, crossed his arms defensively. He was unsure if this was an avenue he wanted to go down, but his pride wasn't taking direction from his rather underused reason center in his brain. Zoey choked back a fit of laughter and covered her mouth with her hands, trying not to spit out her dinner. It was honestly the last thing she was expecting to hear from him.

"Francis, island men don't wear grass skirts, they wear those little butt flap thingys, like in Hawaii."

"Sure, fine, whatever." Francis assured looking up at her. "If that's what it takes to get you in coconuts and a grass skirt, I'm in."

"I never agreed to coconuts!" Zoey cried, chest heaved as she tried not to laugh, face turning purple. Louis was laughing uncontrollably at the thought. Swallowing her mouthful of food she sucked in a deep breath, and let loose a long string of laughter.

Francis grinned cheekily, he was committed now, butt/crotch flap and the whole bag. "You're right, it'd work much better without coconuts. Now we just made a deal. Louis heard it."

"What? No!" Zoey fell over on the couch, burying her face in the cushions. Rolling on her back she tried to wipe the tears away between fits. If their luck held out, all the zombies within a hundred miles would be able to hear them and come running.

"I... hate.. you..." She cried.

"_Please!_ Quit lying and don't pee yourself." He snorted and waved dismissively.

Zoey remained laying where she was until she calmed and sat back up, her hair sticking out in three different directions. Louis and Francis both had fleeting grins on their faces as they resumed watching the fire.

They _were_ fun. Zoey thought to herself. They were damn fun. Leaning back into the cushions she relaxed and was once again mesmerized by the dancing flames.

"I'm glad it was you guys." She said softly.

"What was us? " Louis asked.

"Of all the people left in the world, I'm glad I found you two."

"Me too. Well, you. Francis is just zombie bait." Louis cracked.

Francis nodded at Zoey, throwing the bird at Louis. "They've already gotten a taste for you, Louie, I'd be happy to give them the rest."


	6. I Hate Detours

Author's note: Thank you to everyone who is reading :) I have way more hits now than I thought I'd get the whole length of the story. Thank you to my reviewers, followers, and favs. If there are any Ashville residents reading, sorry, I have no idea what your town looks like outside of Google maps. The VA I am describing is the massive complex in Minneapolis, so that's probably wrong too.

* * *

Chapter 5: I Hate Detours

Setting out early the next morning after packing very lightly the travelers hit the road on the dirtbike and ATV. They brought only ammo and a few freeze dried meals a piece in preparation for a day or two stay in the saferoom as well as to be able to move quickly through the city streets. Though valuable they were fully prepared to lose the ATV and the dirt bike, and make the trip back on foot. However if they were able they would try to return on the transport.

Francis lead the way to the edge of town with Zoey settled casually on the bike behind him. As they pulled to a stop at the top of a hill, Zoey took out her rifle to look through the scope into town. They could see the VA from where they sat as it was the largest complex before them, but she was looking for smaller details that would be unusual, well, _more_ unusual. Through her scope she followed the roads, some were less clogged than others, but they all had their share of visible mayhem. Her goal was to scout out a decent path, they needed to make sure they could get as close as possible before forcing Louis to dismount.

"It's looks fairly clear. I see infected, but nothing swarming."

"They're probably hiding." Francis said lowly, in a tone the others would have thought menacing a month earlier, but they had come to understand it was just how he thought aloud. Paying no mind to him, Zoey handed Louis the rifle to look through the scope as well.

"We're about half a mile out from this point", he calculated, raising and lowering the rifle a couple times. "I think I see a way through."

Louis passed the rifle to Francis. Clear roads were not his concern, he was looking for something different as he held the scope to his eye, something large and angry... and oddly pink. Thankfully, he saw no such monolithic creature. He honestly hoped the last tank he saw would really be his last one ever, knowing full well how ridiculous it was to even entertain the thought. Passing the rifle back over his head to Zoey, he pulled out both his pistols and checked the clips, then proceeded to load his shotgun with an anxious sigh.

"Load up, kiddies."

Zoey and Louis followed suit, assuring their clips were full on their pistols and large weapons. Zoey also re-secured her baseball bat.

"I'll go first. This is going to be very fast. Pray for a saferoom in the hospital." Louis volunteered.

"Mostly, I just don't want to get eaten." Zoey said dryly, her voice masked by the sound of the starting engines.

Louis nodded at the other two and gunned it down the road. Francis followed adeptly while Zoey readied her rifle, clenching the bike with her legs. Her heart pounded in her ears as her adrenaline began to surge, her body was preparing for the carnage ahead. Closing her eyes for a brief second she swallowed her fear, unconsciously gripping the driver tighter.

Curiosity piqued, Francis dared to take one brief look back. Her eyes were closed and her face was pale, she had that look again... the dead one. It was as if her spirit just left her, but she wasn't dead, her humanity was vacating the premises and letting the little monster take over. Sanity, reality, and emotion went into hiding as the survival drive seized control. Gone was the warm, sweet(ish), and mischievous girl he'd gotten to know over the past couple of weeks. The smile, the bright eyes, and the nice healthy flush were gone. She was back... the girl he met on day one, the one with the killer instinct, darkly morbid stare, and cold determination... the borderline sociopath.

Since he'd gotten to know the _real_ girl, he felt nothing but contempt for dark side the world had forced her to grow. Ability aside, she should have never had to be a soldier. Girls like her deserved better, no, the best. Clenching his jaw, he followed the seemingly hell bent ATV ahead of him and focused on the job. With one last thought he let his own inner hulk take control. _Please help us out get out of this in one piece._

Louis weaved in and out of the cars as they shot down the highway into the city. The buildings grew taller as they approached, slowly seeping ravenous infected. Zoey dispatched any that spawned out of vehicles too close for Louis to react. Francis had his pistol in hand as well as he steered, either striking or shooting the zombies when they approached Zoey's blindside.

With a high pitched shriek, a hunter bounded off the side of a building Louis swung next to. Pulling up his pistol Francis emptied half the clip into the hunter mid air. It landed in a heap behind the ATV and he cursed as he swerved to avoid it.

They continued in this fashion for the next couple of minutes until their goal loomed before them. Coming up to the black gates surrounding the hospital they were warned by quarantine signs; it had been evacuated early. They sped up the driveway to the main entrance, attracting a swarm out of the parking lot. It was time to move fast.

Francis grinded the bike to a stop. Zoey jumped off and took down their attackers as fast as she could, opting for the easy swing of the baseball bat. Once Francis was off the bike, he took the bat from Zoey, pointing to an overturned wheel chair. Zoey picked it up and ran over to help Louis into it.

"Get inside, Zoey!" Francis shouted over his shoulder as he took long powerful swings with the bat. Zoey and Louis shared a quick quizzical look as they watched. He moved with the bat unnaturally well, as if he'd been playing baseball his entire life. The bat cracked with a loud snap upon each impact. Quick swing, turn, reload, quick swing, repeat. "Zoey! GO!" He yelled again in irritation as the horde started surrounding him.

Scrambling, Zoey pushed Louis into the giant revolving door and called out to Francis when they were ready. He turned and ran to the door jumping in the same stall as Zoey and Louis. They pushed the unpowered door together as the infected piled up in the next space, beating on the plex more than pushing. Once they were facing into the building Francis and Zoey shoved a couple waiting area chairs in the stalls to jam them. The infected beat tirelessly on the bullet proof Plexiglas windows.

"Let's roll before something big enough comes along to help them." Louis suggested, looking around the large atrium of the hospital.

"This place is huge." Francis said in awe, looking up at the 20 stories of windows in the three walls of the atrium meeting with the glass ceiling. A large American flag hung at the center, at least a hundred feet long.

"Look." Zoey called. There was a large board and map listing all the departments of the hospital. "We're here. We need to go up eight stories, in the west atrium."

"Great. They put the department for people who can't walk on the eighth story. Fucking brilliant." Francis grumbled, motioning to hand Zoey her bat. She considered it for a second then smirked up at him.

"You know what? Keep it, Big Mac. Seeing you out there, I think this thing belongs with you."

Louis and Zoey both gaped in wide eyed shock when Francis actually flushed. He looked angrily at the bat, then tossed it to the floor in disgust, the hollow plink of the hardwood echoing in the atrium. "I fucking hate baseball." He spit, then gripped both handles of the chair, refusing to make eye contact with either of them.

Zoey knew better than to say another word on the subject, having never seen such a strong reaction out of him, which was saying a lot, because well, it was Francis. All his reactions were strong, but not quite of that variety. He truly hated baseball for some reason, even if he looked as smooth swinging that bat as fish swims through water. However she'd have to store that though for later, much later. Shaking her head, she took off at a trot down the left side of the atrium, weapon readied. Francis followed, pushing Louis who held his M16 at the ready.

A few shots rang out as they took care of some infected in white coats that popped out of doors every now and then. Once they were in the west atrium Zoey found the center cluster of elevators, none of which worked. Around a couple corners they found the stairwell. Louis hopped up without question and began making his way up. Zoey followed with rifle trained up the stairs, Francis folded and carried the wheelchair, shotgun in his free hand.

As they were making their way up Francis paused when he thought he heard a door shut. Looking down the stairs curiously, he saw nothing then continued up.

"Anyone else think it's a bit too easy?" He asked.

"Not complaining." Louis huffed.

"Ditto." Zoey agreed with Louis. Francis however did not ignore the uneasiness in his stomach, but shelved it for the moment as they climbed. When they reached the eighth floor Francis lead the way with his shotgun through the stairwell door and dropped the wheelchair. A couple infected lurked down the hall, but he finished them quickly. Zoey unfolded the chair and helped Louis into it.

"Now what?" Francis asked. Louis pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.

"If you find a room with stuff that looks like this, it's the one we want." The paper had a picture of the hooked running prosthetic sketched on it. Francis nodded and trotted off down the hall, kicking doors open, whether or not they were locked, because doing so felt manly and was a hell of a lot of fun.

Zoey pushed Louis down the other side of the hall, throwing doors open for him.

After about 5 minutes, Francis yelled from down the hall. "Hey, _Lieutenant Dan_, I found your legs!"

Zoey brightened and wheeled Louis quickly down the hall and turned into a large lab full of prosthetics in all stages of production. "Nice going Francis!" Louis said excitedly jumping up and hopping over to the wall shelves where completed pieces were hung. He picked up about four different sizes that looked approximately right for his type of injury, then shoved his bag full of the harnessing and padding materials. Zoey also picked up a few prosthetics and began shoving materials into her own bag when Louis directed her to. Louis found several instructional pamphlets for using the prosthetics and shoved them in his bag as well.

When he was sure he had everything he sat back in the wheelchair with his giant bag of loot. They wasted no time heading back out, ready to get the hell out of dodge. Halfway down the corridor Zoey noticed a bathroom and skid to a stop.

"Hold up, guys, I gotta go." She darted into the one stall bathroom and locked the door behind her. It was pleasantly clean, and as usual she was more than excited to use real facilities when she had the opportunity, especially if there was an extra roll of TP for her to steal.

Louis and Francis waited outside, peering carefully in each direction down the hallway. They were silent as they waited, not wanting to attract any attention from the dead or living.

The peace was shattered when the door to the stairwell exploded open and three men jumped out, guns trained on the both of them. Acting without thinking, Francis ran Louis down the hall away from the bathroom until a warning shot rang out.

"Freeze, asshole!" One of the men yelled. Francis turned Louis around to face them. They both held their hands up, and Francis sighed in relief as they passed the restroom Zoey was in. He hoped she was as smart as he thought she was.

"Are you cannibals?" Another man asked. Louis puffed his chest out, offended.

"Do we _look_ like cannibals, or zombies for that matter?"

"You're missing a leg."

"Doooo, you think I _ATE IT_?"

Francis tried not to smirk. Louis really could be cantankerous.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" The first guy asked. Louis looked up to Francis incredulously, who shrugged and merely offered him the rebuttal with the wave of his hand.

"Well, you see Billy, there comes a time in a man's life- I'M MISSING A LEG AND THIS IS A HOSPITAL!" Louis exploded.

From behind the men, Zoey cocked her rifle. "All three of you need to drop your weapons. Now." She spat. They began to turn around. Zoey fired a shot into the ceiling. "I SAID DROP THEM! I'm a bit twitchy and have a history of shooting people on accident! Do you really wanna test me?"

"She shot me, and I'm her, uh, friend?" Francis warned them, raising his shotgun. Louis raised his M16 as well.

The three men dropped their guns and kept their hands raised. Zoey barked, "Go to the wall, face it, spread your legs, and put your hands behind your head." They complied silently.

Francis walked over and patted them down, removing all the pistols, knives, and weapons he found. Finding cuffs on each guy, he used them on each man, pocketing the keys. Spinning them around he sat them on the ground. All three were terrified as they leaned against the wall. Backing up, Francis looked at them with a grim expression. The men weren't cops, what use would they have for cuffs against the undead?

"How many more of you are there?" Francis demanded. The middle guy stuttered in fear.

"Just us. We came for supplies, for the village!"

The man on his right kicked him. "Holy shit, shut _UP_, Brian!"

Zoey stepped in front of them. They fixated on her quickly. "Village?" She asked curiously.

"Yeah, we got doctors too, from this hospital, that know how to use all that stuff." The last man said, looking at Louis and his bag of prosthetic loot.

"We're carriers." Louis threw out casually, testing the waters.

"And we're all immune." The middle man said.

"There's no such thing." Francis responded. "Army said so."

"There's a group of us that have been rounding up survivors. There's about 200 of us. Women too."

"Two hundred?" Zoey mouthed to Louis, trying not to get excited.

The middle man piped up again. "You should come with us."

"No." Francis said hotly. Something about the way the men were suddenly so compliant made him nervous. Also, why the hell did his two friends always believe what strangers told them in the first place? Louis and Zoey shared a hopeful look, which filled Francis with extreme dread. _Here we go again._

"Francis, let's talk first." Louis suggested carefully.

Clenching his jaw, Francis glared at the three against the wall. "If even _one _of you tries to escape I'll put a bullet in _all_ your heads."

They walked a ways down the hall. Francis felt a knot growing in his stomach with each step. He _knew_ what was coming. Louis and Zoey stopped and turned around, sorry expressions on their faces.

"No, no, no! Don't look at me like that. As far as I am concerned there isn't shit to talk about." Francis snapped, equally disgusted and scared.

"We should at least take a look." Zoey said meekly. "I mean, they can help Louis." Francis swallowed hard, placing a hand on her shoulder as he tried to calm down. He didn't know how else to express the uneasiness he was feeling without blowing the rafters out of the hospital with indignant screaming.

"Why the hell do you think they are telling the truth?" Francis asked quietly, practically trying to plead with her better senses.

"Francis, you're terrifying. That man practically peed himself." Louis tried to joke, but Francis was not in the mood for excellent compliments.

"I don't like it. Louis is the smartest damn guy I've ever met. He doesn't need help with anything." Francis argued, looking back and forth between his two companions for any shred of evidence he might sway them. No such luck.

Zoey laid her hand on his arm. "Please."

Under her hopeful expression his anger melted away to worry. 200 hundred people made it sound like they might really have their shit together. To take care of that many required a wealth of supplies and shelter, and organization. However, there was no indicator as to what kind of organization they would find. While kids from good families like Louis and Zoey were very intelligent with all sorts of useful book knowledge, they had no idea how many levels of ugly and demented people existed in the world. In his travels Francis had seen more than he'd ever wanted to know about the cracks and crags of the dark side of humanity, and how in some places, entire towns of people existed outside the government, the law, and society as a whole. They sometimes made their own rules, no matter how despicable or disgusting they may be in civilized circles. There was simply no guarantee that they'd find Pleasantville, or some cliche TV idealization of early American settlers where everyone helped and loved each other. That shit just didn't exist outside of Hollywood, but how would Louis and Zoey know? They were products of a world where television was the third parent.

Zoey's hopeful smile ripped him apart, but there was a chance, slim as it was, these were good people. Unlikely, but maybe. Closing his eyes briefly he swallowed his very real fear. "I _hate_ the very idea of this, but I will not let you two go alone."

He felt sick as Zoey squeezed his arm, and Louis excitedly patted him on the shoulder. It was not going to end well. He knew it with certainty. The second he relented Zoey smiled and kissed him on the cheek. What should have made him giddy like a little boy just stung.

"One more thing." Francis whispered, leaning over. "Not a single fucking word about our supplies or the cabin to anyone. If this ends like I think it will, we need a way out."

Zoey and Louis nodded in agreement. They made their way back down the hall to the three sitting patiently against the wall.

"We will go." Francis said coldly. He looked to Zoey and shook his head. "But you assholes will stay cuffed until we get there."

"Our van is in the ambulance garage." The man on the right, Kevin simply. The other two were visibly relieved as Francis hauled them to their feet.

They found the large black van right where they claimed it would be. It began to snow as they piled in. Zoey hopped in the driver's seat, Louis sat in the front passenger. Francis climbed in back with his shotgun trained on their prisoners.

"Can I radio the compound?" Kevin asked cautiously.

"Let me think... Oh, right. Hell. No." Francis snapped.

"Ok, ok. I understand. North into the hills."

Zoey turned the engine and barreled away from the VA, right back up the road they had just come down an hour earlier, van scraping against cars and debris. Her hope and excitement glossed over the small knot Francis's resistance implanted in her stomach. She wanted this to be the end of their journey. She wanted safety... civilization, even if she had surrendered the idea of going back to regular life. Though she could never have her Pennsylvania safety blanket again, she yearned for something close to it. Peering up at the rearview mirror she caught the back of Francis's head. As if he felt her stare, he looked back for a second, catching her gaze with his own. His brow was drawn with concern, which was quite an unfitting on a face that was often mid scowl. Ending their exchange he turned to face the three at the back for the remainder of the trip.

Within ten minutes they passed by the turnout to their cabin, all three survivors putting conscious effort into not looking down the road. After about 30 more minutes of driving down a couple dirt roads they came upon a complex surrounded by a 20 foot high log wall. Sentries walked around the top and gathered at the entrance when the van approached, but the sliding door did not open for them.

The radio crackled to life.

"You're back early, Kevin."

Francis grabbed the radio and pressed the talk button down. Holding it up to Kevin's face, he cocked his pistol and pointed at his stomach.

"We found survivors. They have a woman. They're a bit twitchy, so don't be aggressive."

"Roger."

Francis nodded and passed the radio back up front. The massive door to the complex slid open and five men walked out. They appeared to be unarmed, but the sentries above remained in position, not setting down their weapons.

"Hello there!" The man out front called. He walked with his arms in the air. "We're friendly!"

Francis opened the side door to the van and motioned for the three prisoners to jump out. He jumped out behind them, pistol wedged in Kevin's back. Louis followed him, but Zoey remained in the van, ready to bowl the five over if she had to.

"I see you haven't hurt anyone. That's good. My name is Howard, and this is our little community."

Francis remained quiet and looked to Louis to do the talking. Nodding, Louis hopped out front.

"Oh Lord, what happened to you, son?" Howard exclaimed.

"Witch." He confirmed. "We had to amputate."

"Let's get you in to see the doctors."

"Not so fast." Louis cut him off. "My friends and I are a bit jumpy."

"Understandable. It's a violent world out there."

"We need to know for sure that you're not hostile."

Howard put his arms down and looked through the door in the compound. "See all the kids running around? They're safe and happy." Francis looked suspiciously in the door. Surprised that was actually what he saw. They were in the middle of a game of stickball. "Now we will need to know that you are not hostile by letting those men go."

Louis turned to Francis who clenched his jaw as he pulled out the keys to the cuffs and freed one man.

"Walk towards them slowly." He said lowly in the first man's ear.

Unfortunately he didn't take direction too well and spun around, arms flailing. Francis didn't hesitate and pistol whipped him. He fell to the ground like a brick.

"Brian, you dumb son of a bitch!" Kevin yelled. Howard grumbled.

"I apologize for him."

Francis glared in response and resumed his position behind Kevin.

"I'll stay here." Kevin announced. "Just let Alex go."

"Fine." Francis agreed, tossing the cuff keys to Howard's feet. "I'm not uncuffing him though. Now walk." He barked at Alex. Without hesitation he proceeded over to the group and turned around to be unrestrained.

"Now is there any way to get you to release Kevin?"

"Tell your sentries to take a walk." Louis responded, keeping an eye on the men above.

Howard raised a hand and shooed them away. Francis holstered his pistol and moved next to Louis. Kevin remained still. Francis kept an eye on him while Louis resumed the negotiating. "We hear you take in survivors."

"Yes, we do, but we have to determine whether or not you'd fit in." Howard responded honestly. Everyone here has to have something to contribute."

Francis's uneasy feeling returned. Fitting in wasn't exactly his strong suit. In the van, Zoey felt relieved when the sentries left and opened the door. All heads turned to her when she stepped out.

"Uh, hi?" She waved unsurely.

Howard's expression changed considerably when he was finally able to view her fully. "So you do have a woman travelling with you. You must be decent men then."

Francis's nose twitched at the underlying accusation.

"Kevin, come on over here and let's get you uncuffed. You three, what are your names?"

"That's Francis, he's Louis, and I'm Zoey."

"Well, Francis, Louis, and Zoey, come in, it's about dinner time. We will talk more later."

The greeting party turned around and headed back into the compound. Francis, Louis, and Zoey shared a momentary exchange then followed. Kevin waited for them at the door with his arms crossed. He caught Francis's attention and frowned. It was not a malicious expression, but sad and regretful. Francis red flagged the moment. It reaffirmed his plan to stick closely to his two friends. He would be sure to have a discussion with Kevin later.

After they were through the portal, the large door creaked shut and was locked behind them. There was no turning back.

At the center of the compound was a lodge where the tables had been setup for meals. Many people swarmed about collecting and organizing food. Preoccupations aside, it was a hot meal and smelled delicious. Eventually they all lined up in a buffet line and returned to tables. As they settled it appeared that the women and men ate separately.

"Stay with me." Zoey whispered to Francis and Louis. They both nodded as the found a table to sit at. Shortly, Howard and Kevin joined them.

"Normally, the women eat over there, but since you are guests, we will let it slide." Howard said firmly.

"Why?" Zoey asked.

"Because it's appropriate." He finished curtly, leaving no room for discussion.

"It's also appropriate I keep an eye on my own." Francis added lowly. "She stays with us."

Howard held Francis's glare for a moment, deciding it was an issue to pick up later. "For the time being." He finished then changed the subject. "Now if you don't mind, we don't allow weapons at the dinner table. Please turn over your munitions."

Two men walked over and took the guns. Francis forced himself to let go for the sake of the other two. "Where are they taking them?"

"Armory." Howard answered shortly.

Kevin remained silent, furrowing his brow for a quick second before digging into his food. Louis took notice of his minor reaction and filed it away.

"Great food!" Zoey interjected, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah, it's not freeze dried." Louis added cheekily, trying to break the death stare Francis unwaveringly focused on Howard. Zoey placed her hand low on his back and coughed. He raised an eyebrow at her and they shared a moment before he grunted and minded his meal.

When they were done eating children came around to bus the tables. Shortly thereafter a group of chattering women came over to the them, focused on Zoey.

"Oh dear, you look miserable! Let's go get you cleaned up!"

Zoey tried not to be offended. Francis crossed his arms and grumbled incoherently, plenty offended for her. "I did the best I could... I'm not... miserable..." She mumbled and slowly stood.

"We didn't mean to upset you, dear. Come meet everyone and we will have some fun!"

"Wait." Francis cut in and motioned for Zoey to lean in and he whispered in her ear. "Tonight, 10, 50 yards left of front gate."

She nodded and Francis bit his tongue as the gaggle of cheerful women left with their hostage. There was so much more he wanted to say, but it would have been impossible in present company.

Watching Francis carefully as his eyes followed the women out of the room, Howard forced a smile and spoke. "Well, gentlemen, let me show you where you two will be residing for the night."

* * *

Zoey didn't know what to do with all the attention. After a bath in what smelled like very expensive bath soap she was being pampered like some sort of debutante. Girls worked on her hair, nails, and facial treatments while she sat in bewildered silence. The girls and women chattered away like chipmunks around her and she tried not to scowl at the sound. She was never one for the mindless dribble that came naturally to most women and girls.

"Zoey is such a cool name!" The girl working on her left hand gushed. "it sounds so modern and... chic."

"You must be so excited to not have to run around like some tomboy shooting those horrible monsters anymore! And being all alone with those men, they were hardly appropriate company for you! Especially the big one, he looked like a criminal, or at least one of those WWE wrestler guys."

Zoey's eye twitched but she kept the lid on her temper. "Those men are my _friends_." She said through grit teeth and a strained smile. The woman backed off at Zoey's obvious irritation. Any further expressed opinions might get her more than she bargained for.

"How do you stay so thin? I'd kill to have a waistline like that." Another girl gushed, but was cut off by yet another.

"She's too muscular! You'll soften up here. Your hands too, they're so rough. No one with such a pretty face should have man hands."

It was a constant exercise in restraint, something she'd never had in the past, but Bill had taught her more than her share of patience. Making their way out of the city had been a lot of hurry up and wait. Unfortunately this was another waiting period, possibly more excruciating than being in the saferooms during rest periods. Swallowing hard, Zoey forced another smile. "I uh, don't get to eat very much."

Her short answer was received with an awkward silence by the women. One sentence answers was much less than they were hoping for.

"You saw the doctor today, Darcy, when's your due date?" One woman spouted when she realized Zoey wasn't really going to join in the nonsensical babble.

"About a month after you!"

"It's going to be so fun having so many babies all at once!"

Zoey raised an eyebrow but stayed silent.

"Yeah, and the best part is that they have to lay off us for nine months."

The women agreed loudly. Zoey was unnerved by the conversation and looked at the clock on the wall. It was already quarter to ten. "Uh, can we hurry? I have to go meet someone."

The room fell into silence again as all eyes focused on her.

"Zoey, dear, that wouldn't be wise. It's dark out, and uh, dangerous."

"Yeah, it's not safe out there." Another confirmed. A couple of the women couldn't hide their worry and looked away.

"Stay here, please!" Another woman pleaded in a whisper that raised the hairs on the back of Zoey's neck.

She couldn't ignore the alarms going off in her head, but it wasn't exactly like they were forcing her to stay. It not like they could if they wanted to, she'd been and expert at sneaking out of her house since she was 14. "Ok, ok. I'd like to go to sleep then. I'm very tired."

A couple women heaved a sigh of relief.

"Ok, we will show you to your room."

* * *

"You two will be residing here."

Howard directed Francis and Louis to a small room with bunk beds, a desk, and a small restroom in a house that seemed to have nothing but men. The door to their small quarters was steel. Both the travelers noticed the heavy locking mechanism on the outside.

"Its, uh, cozy."

Francis bit his tongue again. It was a shithole. Seemed more like a jail cell than a room, especially with the locks on the _outside_ of the door. He preferred the saferoom concrete floors.

"It will have to do, we have an excess of men, and we make sure the ladies have all the comforts of home. Without them... well, let's face it, we as a people are doomed." Howard beamed. Louis raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Francis just glared at him.

"So, uh, when can we see Zoey?" Louis wondered, sitting on the desk.

"The girls are taking great care of her, and I believe you need to see the doctor."

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then let's go. You're not going to be mobile until they get a good look at you."

"I'm sure I can wait."

"Nonsense."

"Louis, let's go. Zoey's no wilting flower." Francis said finally, picking up the bag of legs that had been waiting on one of the beds. He figured he might as well get a feel for the layout of the facility if they were going to be denied access to Zoey directly. It wasn't like he was surprised at all, Zoey was a beautiful young woman and he knew the instant they arrived they were going to separate her from them. The only surprising part about it was that they didn't use any force... yet. In a couple hours they would meet her by the gate and make sure she was alright. If she wasn't alright, they'd leave under the cover of darkness. If she didn't show up, then it would be the end of 'nice' Francis. Louis stared purposefully at him, Francis motioned with his head to the door.

"Ok."

The trip to the doctor's building was short as it was right next door. They had setup an impromptu lab with all the equipment that Kevin and his team were scrounging up from the VA. Some even seemed to be working with hazardous materials from infected in a quarantined area. Francis helped Louis hop in the building and find a chair before dropping the bag and giving the small group of five a quick stare down. He never liked doctors. They were too touchy-feely.

An older man with silver hair walked out of the office, spectacles at the tip of his nose. "Well then, you must be the new boys."

"I must be going now. I will leave you in Dr. Hansen's capable hands." Howard said dryly, checking his wrist watch, not bothering to pay the old man any more courtesy than was required. "Please make sure they find their way back to the men's dorm when you are finished, Doctor."

"If you say so." Hansen said without looking at Howard, clearly irritated. Howard frowned then left.

"Are you from the VA?" Louis asked curiously. Hansen turned his steel eyes on Louis then his face softened.

"Yes. Orthopedic Surgeon. I made it my life's work to help boys like you, who fought bravely and lost pieces of themselves. I'll make you walk like new with all this hardware you brought me."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm no soldier."

Hansen pulled up a stool and pushed his loose glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Son, this war may have no name, but you are without a doubt a soldier." The good doctor looked up at Francis and paused, then smirked when Francis did nothing but return his cool gaze. "The both of you are."

"There's three of us." Francis grumbled. "But _Howard_ took her away."

"He's a ponce, isn't he?" Hansen snorted and turned back to Louis. "May I have a look?"

Louis nodded and untied the pant knot sealing off his incision. Francis's stomach churned and he diverted his eyes. Those memories were still too fresh. The doctor noticed and chuckled.

"When I was a field medic in Vietnam there was this obstinate Sergeant who would always come back from scout missions with wounded men. He was fine with all the blood and gore as long as I wasn't working on it. It seemed to become real for him at that point. I was trying to keep life from slipping away, whereas out in the field the goal was to take it. It's easy to watch a man get blown away when it's expected, but to feel him fade away in your arms when it's not can change your entire view of the world."

Francis rolled his eyes, "I didn't ask for your life story, old man." Hansen laughed to himself as he leaned in to examine the fairly well healing incision site.

"When you get to my age son, you just don't give a shit what people ask for... or think... or do..." He trailed off as he squinted for a closer look. Pausing for a second he sat back up and turned to Francis again. "Overbeck. His name was Overbeck. Not that it matters. I'm just glad I remembered something. At my age if you don't use your brain cells, you lose them."

Francis and Louis shared a quick wide eyed stared. Was the world really that small?

"Bill?" Louis volunteered.

"Huh?" The doctor asked.

"His first name, was it Bill?"

"I don't remember. It's not important. This however," The doctor interjected, "Is very impressive. Who performed this operation?"

"Our friend. We found supplies at a vet clinic in Pennsylvania and she completed the operation."

"Very well done and the seam is healing nicely. No signs of infection."

"I helped." Francis volunteered then coughed. "A little."

"Is she a doctor?"

"No, we found a book that showed us how." Louis paused, realizing he was revealing too much, "But we don't have it anymore."

Hansen raised an eyebrow, the wheels turning at lightning speed behind his clear eyes. His body may have been suffering the advances of age, but his mind was as sharp as a blade. "Your group doesn't fit in here." He said plainly. Francis and Louis bristled and looked around for a hidden ambush. Hansen lowered his voice and gripped Louis's shoulder firmly. "You should leave when you get the opportunity. You'd be better off on your own."

"That's enough, old man." Another voice warned from inside another room. "Just get him on his feet." The source of the voice remained hidden but Louis and Francis were alert. Hansen laughed then turned back to the younger men, concern plastered on his face.

"Piss off, Brown." The doctor grumbled in irritation. He dug through the bag of prosthetics and pulled out one he felt might work. "You need to be mobile, to be able to run. I'll make you run like the damn wind."

Francis shifted uneasily and leaned back against the wall. Hansen was not easing his doubts any about the colony. With a simple screwdriver the good doctor took to adjusting the prosthetic, sure show Louis exactly what he was doing, not aware of Louis's technical ability. He watched the doctor with keen interest, cataloguing and memorizing each bit of information.

"The purpose is to displace your weight evenly without putting undue strain on the end of the limb. This is by no means an old fashioned peg leg. I knew the man who designed this particular model. I just wish we could get a proper mold to fit you exactly, but this will do for now, do just fine."

"I'm sorry." Louis offered.

"Don't be, young man, he died long before the infection."

"Lucky."

"I didn't think so at the time, but I am inclined to agree with you now." Hansen chuckled while pulling out the various wrappings and sleeves for the leg. "Now then this will prevent chaffing, but it will take a while to get used to the pressure."

Gently and slowly he helped Louis put on the sleeve and tighten it. Unceremoniously Hansen then fit the prosthetic and began adjusting the traces. Latching them shut, similar to a ski boot, he fine tuned the tightness to be firm but not to prevent circulation.

"The hook is interesting."

"Yes, it is, works just like a leaf spring on a vehicle. I've seen men actually run faster with these than they did before they lost their limbs." Hansen sat back on his stool. "Well, how does it feel?"

"Heavy."

"Get up, dingus." Francis teased lightly, offered his arm for him to grab and pull himself up. Louis grabbed his forearm and hauled himself to his feet, without putting any weight on the apparatus. Gingerly he began to shift his weight, not convinced it would hold him.

"It's strange. Feels like a stilt."

"You will trip quite a bit at first, but after a while it will become second nature." The doctor pushed his reading glasses up on his forehead and addressed both men seriously. "I suggest you practice as much as you can stand it. The sooner you can run, the better."

Louis let go of Francis and held his arms out at the sides, trying not to favor his good leg. "It will take time. The pressure is a bit uncomfortable."

"Ok, then make sure you keep these extra sleeves with you. That particular prosthetic is titanium, it won't wear out, but the fabric at the friction points will."

"Thank you doctor, we will get out of your hair."

"I suppose, it's getting late, almost ten."

Francis perked up, he had to get moving. While Louis gathered his belongings, Hansen approached the tall man and stood beside him. Under his breath he spoke.

"Listen to me. If it were just you and your friend, I'd welcome you, but if you care any for that girl you're with you better grab her and go."

Francis nodded, not really sure what to think of the warning; the man seemed to be missing a couple cards. He hadn't seen anything yet that really warranted his usual paranoia, despite his instant hatred of Howard. Upon speaking with Zoey he would decide whether or not to act. If she felt at home, he didn't think he had the right to uproot her from safety.

"Son of a bitch." The voice from earlier yelled from the other room. "This damned computer doesn't work for shit."

"Computer?" Louis asked Hansen.

"We have them for information storage or some crap, charge them up once a day on the generators."

"I can help."

"Louis, we have to go. It's almost ten." Francis urged.

"I'll catch up. Won't take long."

Francis nodded and disappeared out the door into the evening.

* * *

"What say you, councilman?"

"They seem to have potential."

"Even the large one?"

"He's powerful, would make a good sentry and would be good for supply runs. As long as he and the girl don't show any interest in each other we have nothing to worry about."

"And if he grows out of control?"

"He's big, not unstoppable. I will handle the situation."

"He will not be warned. One offense and his welcome will be withdrawn. We cannot have a liability of that size running around the village."

"I agree."

* * *

It was damn cold out. She could see the steam puffing out of her nostrils in the evening air when she landed on the soft ground below the window of the house. The other women had gone as far as to lock her bedroom door to keep her from going out, but no lock had stopped her before. Unfortunately it also meant she had no access to her warm riding coat since it was down in the closet. Stealthily she snuck around by the fence, careful to stay out of sight. When she reached the meeting area she hid in some bushes while she waited for the other two to appear.

Hopefully they would show up before she started convulsing. As if on cue, Francis walked casually out of the shadows looking around suspiciously.

"Hey." She called quietly, but warmly. Francis alerted, his usual scowl melted and his shoulders dropped as he relaxed. Zoey walked out into the open, surprised at how happy she was to see him. It was tough to spend every waking hour with someone for a couple months then be separated. He appeared to feel the same. A smile even pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"What's up, princess?"

"Not, much, you?"

Without thinking she gave him a brief hug. Francis shrugged awkwardly and they waited in silence for a minute before she spoke again. "So what do you think?" She asked quietly, arms crossed over her chest. The snow had begun falling again.

"Oh come on. You know I hate it."

She smiled briefly. "I know. Thought maybe you'd been practicing your big boy words." The cold December air chilled her to the bone and she shivered. Noticing Francis stepped over and began rubbing her arms.

"Very funny. Where's your jacket, woman?"

"They were against me coming to see you two, so I had to sneak out."

"Now I _really_ don't like that."

"It's ok." She assured him. "They've treated me like a princess. It's been a nonstop spa day and it's safe and warm up there." He was trying to avoid commenting on how pleasant she smelled, now he knew why.

Francis remained stoic. "They better." Zoey smiled, enjoying the warm contact then leaned into his chest. He paused for a moment in surprised the continued rubbing her arms. It was just because she was cold...

He was desperately trying not to make waves with these people, they seemed like an ok group despite his reservations, and he didn't want to ruin it for Louis and Zoey. Fitting in wasn't really his forte even when the world was right side up. This kind of safety was what was best for _them_,but he still didn't trust their well being to anyone else.

"I don't think Louis is gonna make it tonight." She said through chilled shudders. "Shit it's _cold_ out here." Looking at his jacket for a moment, she slid down the zipper and wrapped her arms around his waist inside the coat. "Heat miser..."

Francis flushed for a brief second then wrapped his arms around her and tried not to dwell on what in any other circumstance would be a very intimate gesture. She was awfully affectionate as of late. Sure to check that they were alone he looked around quickly then down to the top of her head. She smelled _very_ good. If he wasn't so paranoid about being watched, he'd be more inclined to take a closer whiff of her shampoo. Nothing in the world smelled better than freshly clean women's hair. It's like they designed the hair products to attract men or something.

"Hey."

"Hey what?"

"Do you really like it here?"

"Honestly I don't know yet." She replied, craning her neck to look up at him. "Crap, sometimes I forget how tall you are."

"Whatever. I'm not tall, you're a dwarf."

She laughed but her mirth faded when he didn't share in her amusement. His renewed anxiety radiated outward through the nervous shifting of his eyes. No matter what he did, he couldn't push away the nagging feeling that something bad was going to happen.

"Come on, Francis. You're making me worry."

"Zoey I-"

"HEY! YOU TWO OVER THERE!"

Francis jumped away and glared at a sentry pointing a rifle in their direction. Zoey stood behind him, gripping his coat as exposure to the cold seeped through her thin pink sleeves. "What the hell do you want?" He demanded.

"It's past curfew! No one is allowed outside past curfew!"

"You're past my patience. Get lost, asshole."

"Francis, what the hell is going on?" Zoey whispered frantically, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

A few more sentries came running to the aid of the first, boots crunching in the fresh snow. Francis knew instantly his welcome had expired.

"We're making waves." He grumbled, standing defensively before her. "Stop pointing your fucking guns at us! We're unarmed!"

"You need to come with us, and she needs to go with them." The sentry instructed pointing to his back-up. Francis snorted. The decision had just made itself, they needed to leave and never look back.

"Like _hell_." He snapped, bristling under his coat.

"You'd do best to listen to them, Francis." Howard's voice cut through the air as he stepped up with another regiment of sentries. "You've been accommodated beyond reason up to this point and now you have broken the rules."

"Rules?" He snarled. "You've done everything possible to separate me and Louis away from Zoey. What kind of bullshit rules do that?"

"For good reason, _Son_."

Francis bristled. "You don't get to call me that!"

"You've put the woman in danger."

"There isn't a person alive I feel more secure with!" Zoey's outburst surprised everyone. Francis looked curiously over his shoulder. "And I have a damn name!"

The half circle of sentries began closing in on them, one slow step at a time. They were cornered.

"Women are too valuable to be tooling around with trash like you. I knew your type before the infection. No good thug. I saw your mark at lunch." Howard scolded in reference to the Hell's Legion tattoo currently hidden under his coat. Zoey's eyes narrowed and she stepped out in front of Francis.

"You shut your damn mouth!" The procession stopped and weapons lowered. Zoey looked up to Francis momentarily showing absolute panic on her face before throwing up the stone wall. Glaring back to Howard, she faked her composure. She cursed herself for letting them take their weapons, for complying so easily to the craziness, and for not taking Francis's reservations to heart. "The only trash I see here is an overfed elitist prick with a control fetish!"

Francis's eyes widened and shoulders sank. "Zoey, no..." He whispered urgently, knowing she had just put herself in the crosshairs alongside him. He gently pulled her safely back behind him. Zoey's resolve melted away when she saw actual fear cross his face. In the time she'd spent with him, she'd seen him in pain, pissed off, confused, enraptured with hating something, but she had never seen him scared. Often she had wondered if he even knew what fear was.

"I see." Howard said quietly. They had dealt with similar situations in the past. "Put her in time out. Put him out of my misery. You stupid prick, you're about to find out just how cold get it gets out here at night." He said casually toward Francis and turned to walk back into the shadows he emerged from.

"What!" Zoey and Francis echoed.

They were rushed from all sides. Francis jumped forward slamming the closest man in the face with his fist. Butts of shotguns impacted his ribs and the back of his head. In seconds he fell to his knees. Zoey struggled against her captors punching, kicking and biting anything within reach. Arms wrapped tightly around her neck and compressed her throat. "_Francis!_" She cried as she was hauled away.

He took one last look up to see Zoey pulled around the corner, screaming. Rage welled up inside of him and with one last herculean effort he jumped up, decked a man and took his weapon. Swinging futilely at the men around him he took out a couple more with sickening thuds. Taking two hard steps toward her he collapsed when the back of his skull cracked at one final blow. Lights and flares overwhelmed his field of vision before he blacked out.

"Francis...I'm sorry..." Zoey mumbled incoherently as her world grayed out then turned black as the air was blocked from her lungs.


	7. Separation Anxiety

**Chapter 6: Separation Anxiety**

Louis rubbed his tired eyes as the computer screen blurred for a second. It felt so good to be at the helm of his digital world once again, even if just for some basic system repairs.

"You're absolutely brilliant. I've been trying for weeks just to get past the login screen."

Louis chuckled amicably at the compliment but did not respond to it. He didn't really feel comfortable with that other man lurking over his shoulder like a vulture. "It was just corrupted." He replied evenly, not really wanting to reveal the fact that it had been partially wiped, which Louis suspected had been an interrupted auto destruct security sequence. If it wasn't for his own morbid curiosity, he would have bailed already. Someone went through the trouble of saving that computer during the zombie massacre, so it had to have something very important on it. Depending on what information he found he had half a mind to finish the wipe and make it look like an accident. With the flash of a few keystrokes he could render the system to a paperweight with a perpetuating command to burn the hard drive.

Lifting his wrist to check his watch, his stomach sunk. He had been working for an hour. The time had completely escaped him. Francis and Zoey had to be finished meeting by then. Louis kicked himself mentally but didn't let his disappointment show. It may have even been for the best that he had not gone with to keep suspicions low.

"That big guy you were here with looks like an ass."

It was an awkwardly placed statement. Louis arced an eyebrow but did not falter, speaking coolly. "He has his moments. We all do."

"It's just strange to me that a black man like you would want to hang around some skinhead like that."

It was the most asinine statement he had ever heard, and since he'd spent a couple months listening to some seriously dumb crap pop out of Francis's mouth, that was saying a lot. He turned to Brown, deciding to cease work for the evening, suddenly finding himself to be very weary of the man's company.

"I'm sorry, I really don't know how to take that. You assume that I'd be enough of a bigot to profile him as a racist based on his appearance, and then did the same yourself. You've managed to insult both of us in one breath."

Brown stuttered as he tried to reply, not expecting such a direct response. "But, the tattoos... and he's mean..."

"He pisses me off from time to time, but he's my friend. He's saved my butt more times than I can count, and he doesn't handle me with kid gloves, as if I'd shatter if he 'hurt my precious feelings'. If he treats me better than others it's because I've earned it."

The door to the building flew open and Louis jumped away from the desk, instinctively reaching for his weapon. When his hand brushed an empty belt he clenched his fists in preparation for a fight. Howard stepped in the door with a contingent of armed sentries.

"Don't be alarmed, Louis. I was ensuring your safety."

"Then why the hell did you kick the door open?!"

Howard did not answer the question as he considered the man seriously and suspiciously. Turning to Brown he asked a question. "Did he get in?"

"Actually, yes." Brown confirmed. "He's brilliant."

_Actually, I'm a fucking genius, my mother had me tested. _Louis thought and narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out if Brown's assessment had saved his life or ended it. Truth was, he'd just been lazily tapping a few keys, the full extent of what he was capable of was near incomprehensible to people not of the same educational background. What disturbed him the most was that something had to be up for the pudgy little bastard to storm in with half the compound security behind him. Biting his tongue, he held onto the million questions he had, most notably about the abrupt and relatively unfounded concern for status of his friends.

Howard forced a blank smile to his face. Either Louis knew the pair had met and was hiding it well, or he didn't know and they had just picked up a programmer. Even more of a bonus, he was easily disabled without the prosthetic. He would give him the benefit of the doubt. Once. "Were you going to be long?"

"No, I was actually going to wrap up for the night. I'm tired." Louis answered honestly. He was too exhausted for further pretense. Taking a step forward he flinched when he nearly forgot about his leg. He was mildly startled when he caught himself moving so fluidly with the prosthetic. It was easier than he was expecting. At the next available opportunity he made a note to thank Hansen for a job well done.

"We will escort you back to your quarters."

Louis paused for a moment at the gesture. "Do you really want to? I assure you it isn't necessary."

"I assure you, we think it is. It's only polite. There're monsters out there."

_There just may be monster in here. _Louis thought and followed Howard out the door, trying to dismiss the strangeness of the day and more importantly the urgent gnawing in his stomach. As much as he wanted to deny it, there were more than a few bits that were starting to add up in the wrong column. Shuddering at the very notion of having to give Francis credit for being right he then realized it would be more frightening to deal with possible consequences of it all than to just endure weeks worth of 'I told you so's. He would be sure to sit down and talk with him once he returned to their room.

Hopefully the meeting with Zoey went well.

* * *

The world returned in echoes and blurred images. Seeping cold swept over her body in waves. When she was finally able to open her eyes and move her hands she noticed darkness and wetness.

"She's waking." The voice was foggy and slow to her ears. "You have quite the impudent streak."

"What the hell..." Zoey mumbled as she slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position. Her eyes failed to focus on anything in the dim light. She didn't know where she was or who was talking to her. The worst part is that she couldn't remember how she arrived in her present situation.

"It was a very stupid move you made. We are very disappointed with you."

"Who are you? What did I do? What happened to me?"

"You broke the rules. We only asked one thing of you, don't go out, but you did anyway, to meet with that Neanderthal of a man. Thankfully your other friend is much more intelligent."

Like a thunderclap her memories returned.

"Francis." She whispered and jumped to her feet, quickly becoming aware of her surroundings. She was in a damp concrete room with one steel door, a bed rack, and a toilet. It was dark, the only source of light from a small window in the door. Only darkness came through the high window at the top of the cell. The voice, she could now tell was being broadcast on a speaker. Running to the door she pulled and twisted the handle with to no avail. "What did you do with him!?" She demanded, her last memory of him was watching him get beat to the ground with rifles.

"That is not of your concern."

"Like hell it isn't! Where's Louis!? I want to leave!"

"Louis is fine. He didn't break any rules."

"Fuck your rules!" She roared. "I didn't agree to any of this!"

"It doesn't matter. You are too valuable to running around, the world the way it is."

Zoey stared at the light of the door with burning contempt. "What the hell are you getting at?"

"There is a good life for you here if you cooperate."

"Fuck you!"

"Very well."

The speaker clicked off and Zoey was left in silence. The dim light in the hallway blinked out and she was left in complete darkness.

"Hello?"

There was no response. Fumbling around in the darkness she located the bed and wrapped herself up in the thin blanket and huddled in to the corner. Staring blindly forward she was left alone with her thoughts and she didn't like it. The CEDA mystery was far from her head, as were all the infected. She could only sit and wonder what had happened to Francis, if Louis was in a similar situation, and if she would ever see the light of day again.

Worst of all, she was left with the pounding of her own guilt.

* * *

A crack and a stinging on his cheek brought Francis back from the darkness. He jerked his head back and opened his eyes to focus on a group of angry looking men. His arms and legs were chained in front of him while another chain wrapped around his body and a thick tree trunk. He shuddered as the cold and the snow bit his bare arms. His warm coat had been removed.

"I've been waiting for this moment the second your ugly mug walked into town. You thought you were such tough shit having that pretty girl all to yourselves. I bet she worked both of you in exchange for protection. Lucky bastards."

Stars still danced in front of Francis's eyes as he tried to keep focused. "Girl…" He mumbled incoherently. Whatever they hit him with, they hit him hard... repeatedly.

"What?"

"... you hit like a girl..." He slurred with a sloppy grin. His impudence was rewarded with a fist to his head.

"We all know how rare women are in these times and you happened to find an unbelievably hot one, who _likes_ your ugly ass for some reason."

"Zoey…" Francis felt the word penetrating the fog and his heart rate climbed.

"She'll be great for makin babies. We gotta repopulate the world you know, with all those damn zombies killing everyone. It's our duty." The man leaned forward and stuck his face directly in front of Francis. "I put my name in the hat. Every man in the damn town did for a chance at fucking that sweet little bitch."

With deadly calm, Francis slowly opened his eyes to meet his with laser intensity, then swept the man's legs out from beneath him with his foot. When he hit the ground the prisoner lifted the heel of his steel reinforced boot in the air and brought it down on his captor's neck with a sickening crack. The others scrambled to pull him away and Francis fought with the chains to try and pop free. He snarled, fury growing at the notion anyone would dare lay a hand on Zoey, or even speak of her in such disgusting manner. She was a lady, rough around the edges, but a lady still. "How about you let me go and we settle this like men!"

The man rattled and wheezed, "You're going no damn place! You're gonna freeze to death tied to that fucking tree!" He choked out while desperately trying to draw in air through his bruised windpipe. "Then you'll burn in hell!"

Francis spit in their direction. Another man walked over to him, raised the butt of his gun and sent him back into the darkness.

* * *

_"What the hell have I told you! I don't care what the hell happens, STAY TOGETHER!" Bill rasped angrily, slamming his fist against the red saferoom door. "It's a blasted miracle we made it out of that in one piece!"_

_Infected flurried and snarled outside the massive door at the sound, reaching bare bone claws through the rebar window slots. No one paid any attention to it, it was the least of their worries. On the concrete floor the other three travelers huffed and puffed as they tried desperately to catch their breath. _

_"How is it... you're the smoker... and you're not... out of breath?" Zoey gasped, gripping her chest as her throat burned. _

_"Because I'm not the dumb yahoo that took off at a sprint, I'm lookin' at you FRANCIS!" _

_Three sets of eyes turned to one man. _

_"What!?"_

_"That's my question! What the hell were you doing?" Bill roared, gripping the handle of his M16 until his knuckles turned white. _

_"Thought I saw something..." Francis mumbled, climbing back up to his feet. _

_"What could possibly be worth risking our lives over?!"_

_"Vending machine?"_

_Bill's face began to turn a concerning shade of red and his blood pressure spiked. Body shaking in fury, he stumbled over to a crate and sat down. Truth was, that would have been the find of the week if it had been true, but a more important precedent had been breeched. _

_"Francis." Bill started, pausing to take a deep breath. "The Romans conceived the greatest war strategy in history by watching the hunting habits of wolves. Divide and conquer. If you cannot defeat the group as a whole you separate your opponents out one by one and destroy them. Wolves, wild animals, that is how they hunt: instinctually... it's also how we humans hunt at the instinctual level. By the looks of it, that's how the infected operate, especially the smarter ones."_

_Bill paused again, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. The other three remained silent until he puffed out a long stream of smoke, a serene look gracing his face. Holding the cigarette before his eyes, he considered it thoughtfully before flicking the mostly unused butt out the window at the infected._

_"This goes for all three of you. There is no such thing as only putting yourself at risk. When you make a dumbass decision, you make it for us all. Being down one would cut your survival chances by 25%. So for the love of Pete, stay the fuck together, no matter what."_

* * *

Francis stirred again when his body violently convulsed. It was a dark moonless night; the only light was ambient from the blanket of stars above. The cold had frozen him to the core and he struggled against the chains trying to flex his fingers. There was no response. He couldn't feel anything more in his forearms than the burns the ice cold chains left on his wrists.

His head throbbed at the two impact sites from the gun. Dizziness threatened to drag him back into unconsciousness, but he fought it knowing that if he succumbed he may never wake up again.

"Wake up! WAKE UP!" He yelled through chattering teeth. This was not how he wanted to go out. He hoped he would have an epic hero's death of some sort, but he supposed that because the life he led it wasn't really in the cards. Heroes weren't people like him with longs lists of regrets and transgressions. Dying tied helplessly to a tree actually seemed to fit his niche in life much better. Bitterly he kicked and pulled at the chains. He had his lock pick set in his boot but it would be useless if he couldn't feel his fingers.

Running out of energy he leaned back against the tree, gasping the chilled air as it burned his lungs. Desperately he tilted his head up to the sky. The stars twinkled in the frozen night air. He wondered if death would bring them any closer. For the first time in his life he honestly felt he wasn't ready to die. He was _needed_ somewhere.

All his options had dried up. Well, all of them within his own power. There was one more door to knock on, if _He_ was willing to listen. With a heavy heart crawled up to a threshold he hadn't ventured near in years. Tilting his head up to the sky he sighed in defeat.

"You probably don't want a damn thing to do with me at this point and I'm sorry for that. We didn't part on good terms." He confessed. Closing his eyes he tried not to give in to the ever present doubt, but the truth remained, he would die right there at the base of that tree if he didn't get help. He was at rock bottom and the only ladder up required a leap of faith.

He refused to leave life failing to accomplish the single goal that had been entrusted to him by a much bigger man. "First of all, tell Bill… he was right. The second we got split up it all went to hell. Second, tell him, he was wrong, I _wasn't_ cut out for this shit."

His chest seared in pain as he shivered. "Please tell Zoey I'm sorry... I won't... I won't be able to get her class after all." The knowledge of what was going to happen hurt more than the stinging in his limbs as he tested the chains again. She would fight it with everything she had. He knew she would, but there was too much to fight. She had been singled out...

Overwhelmed, Francis released a primal roar from the gut of his stomach. Struggling until the chains cut into his wrists, he collapsed in exhaustion. "I'm just a big damn loser. I can't even listen to some stinky old man when he's trying to tell me how _not_ to fuck up!"

Francis was not a crying man, having only shed a tear once as a teen when his brother had been ripped away from him. Since that time he had avoided any emotional attachment and personal responsibility at all costs. If he had remained self centered he never would have ended up in that mess. He would have just died an inconsequential blip to the history of the world. He would never have cared about the fate of some damn woman, and old man, and a geek.

Peering up to stare through the scraggly branches of the naked trees, he fixated his gaze on the twinkling stars. They seemed so cold and distant, unresponsive. Fury grew in the pit of his stomach and he cried out in frustration. "This is what I get for trying to be a good person! IT ALWAYS BLOWS UP IN MY FACE!"

His voice echoed over the empty snow dusted forest. Predictably, there was no response. Calming himself he took a deep breath to try again. The time to learn how to exercise control had long past, but he might as well try.

"I know this is a hell of a time to start talking again, but I got nothing left." He began again softly, closing his eyes. "I figured you left me behind in New Mexico, but maybe it was the other way around. If this is what it took to get my attention again, it's all yours." Heaving a sigh he opened his eyes. "That stupid Nun at the mission said you were the champion of the weary and generally fucked up. Well, I'm damn tired and there isn't much more shit to kick out of me."

Francis breathed deeply and hung his head in defeat. Twenty minutes passed as the prickling needles of numbness crept over his arms and legs. His body grew heavy as his metabolism began to slow. It felt like there were long seconds between heartbeats.

The end was near, and all he was leaving behind in life was regret. With chattering teeth, he had one last thing to say. "If you help me make it out of this… I'll be _better_… I'll take that as proof you heard me. I won't forget you again. " His words slurred and he couldn't fight the darkness anymore.

The ambient noise around him became muffled as his ears rang, and it felt like he was being pulled under water. Forcing his eyes open with one last jolt of energy he swore he saw a pair of glowing eyes out in the darkness before his own shut under an immense weight. He heard some vague crunching then great warmth settled across his lap. Maybe it was the body bag being zipped around him. Whatever it was, he was too far gone to care.

* * *

_In the waning evening light, Louis sat before a pile of electronic parts, C4, and PVC. He quickly assembled a bagful of pipebombs in about thirty minutes. Watching him from the door of the saferoom, Bill shook his head in disbelief. _

_"Christ, son, how the hell does someone learn something like that?"_

_"It's not too hard." Louis responded with a chuckle, picking up the remaining parts that were of no use, and throwing them into a trash can that would probably never be emptied. "I had a lot of spare time growing up and I wanted to know just about everything."_

_"But pipebombs? Were you one of those angry kids?"_

_Leaning back against the wall Louis picked up his food ration and idly poked it with a wide smile. _

_"Oh heck no! I researched them one day as a kid when my mom grounded me, just to scare her a bit when she went through my search history. I never actually made one until last week when we found that C4 stash, eidetic memory and all."_

_Bill grunted with a laugh as he took a drag off his cigarette. "You don't seem like the type anyway."_

_"I'm not. I had a great childhood. My family was well off and I had everything I wanted. My greatest concern was boredom. You have no idea how many stereos and electronics I took apart." Taking a bite of the beef jerky in his ration Louis began to laugh. "When I was 8, I upped the voltage and replaced the suction fan on my mom's vacuum with one from a car radiator because she complained it wasn't strong enough. When she plugged it into the wall, she blew every fuse in the fuse box. We had no power for a week."_

_Bill nodded, tapping the ashes off his cigarette. _

_"She wasn't even mad." He continued, his smiled fading. "She thought I was the most brilliant thing she'd ever seen. Dad wasn't as impressed because of everything I destroyed, but he saw it too. They took me in to get tested the next week and that was the end of my childhood. Some jerk doctor determined that I had an IQ of 152 and I spent the rest of my youth in special schools, eventually graduating from MIT with an advanced degree in computer science with an emphasis in AI."_

_"Shit, kid, you seem upset about this."_

_"I hated all of it. I just wanted to be normal. Have normal friends, job, and life. I picked up a basic networking certification just so I could go work a menial job and blend in. I got in, started making some friends, hell, even went on a couple dates, and then the world went to hell."_

_Looking to the door then over to Zoey who was sleeping off a wound, Louis sighed. _

_"I should have been a doctor. I bet I could have figured this infection out by now. DNA coding isn't too far off from the programming languages. Some programmers actually cured a disease not too long ago after they were given a genome to work with."_

_Bill shrugged his shoulders. _

_"You can spend the rest of your life focused on what might have been and you'll never move past the ground you stand on. I should have pursued my wife when she walked out the door, I should have stayed in the service where I belonged, and I should have quit smoking before, well, I became this." Pausing and taking a long drag, Bill slowly exhaled a light stream of smoke. "But I didn't, and I live with the consequences every day. The fact remains that I am what I am. My only option is to try and move forward."_

_Louis remained quiet when Bill finished, mindlessly rubbing his hands. Looking up he gave a half smile._

_"So what now?"_

_"As much as it would please me, the world is not goin to stop running on those blasted computers. The time will come when you will be needed. You'll see. Geniuses aren't born every day."_

_"Just... just don't call me that."_

_"What?"_

_"Genius."_

_"Why the hell not?" Bill exclaimed._

_"It makes me... different." _

_Bill crossed his arms and stared at Louis expectantly. "Look here, son. Despite what all those 'politically correct' assholes say, there is nothing wrong with being exceptional. Start being a little more proud of the gifts you're blessed with, and less concerned for the dumb people of the world having poor self esteem over being stupid. Morons have a bad habit of inhibiting greatness. It's probably the only thing they're good at." _

_Louis nodded as he listened. Bill made sense with his cut and dry soldier sensibilities. Seeing the wheels turn behind Louis's eyes, Bill chuckled._

_"Good night, Louis. Take my words for what they are, no translating necessary."_

_"Ok, night, Bill."_

* * *

Francis never returned. It didn't take much deduction on Louis's part to know what had happened, or at least what may have happened. He laid awake most of the night, half expecting his friend to be tossed into their assigned room beaten half to hell, but it never happened, and that made Louis's stomach churn with anxiety. Even though he slept in a warm room on a real bed, he had never felt quite that cold during their months on the run.

He stayed quiet and did not ask any questions as he was alerted to the breakfast bell the next morning. Ignorance was going to be his best defense and deterrence to unwanted attention. If Francis was still alive, he would have to find a away to save him, get Zoey, and get the hell out. It was safe to say that coming to the village was his own idea, and it was the worst one he had ever had. It was practically the _Lord of the Flies_ with adults. No wonder Hansen told him to make a run for it.

Once he reached the dining hall his uneasiness grew quickly into horror. Zoey was not present. The women were there, but she was not among them. Quickly he turned his attention away from the women's table. He couldn't be seen showing too much interest in what was going on over there. If he looked suspicious, he would be treated as such.

"Good morning Doctor."

"Excuse me?" Louis asked in genuine surprise. He never liked being called by his educational title, it was too formal and stuffy. It was the whole reason he picked up a networking certificate in the first place. 'Mr.' was all the notoriety he desired.

"Well, you are, aren't you? Unless Mr. Brown misheard." Howard said jovially as he walked up, grinning in a fashion that turned Louis's stomach. He was a cat, and he had gotten his bird, possibly two.

"Technically, yes, I have a PhD, but "Louis" is just fine."

"A distinction such as that should not be tossed aside. You can fit in here, Doctor."

"I see." Louis responded blankly, biting the urge to speak his mind. Time and time again he had to remind himself that he was in someone else's card game and the rules were set by the house. He couldn't shoot off his mouth like he would have back at the office building where the only repercussion would have been a verbal or written warning. He got the feeling penalties were much stiffer around there.

"Don't worry about your friend." Howard volunteered lowly, his smile evaporating. "He went on a hunting excursion with the men for fresh meat. Can't feed the village without sacrifices."

"I wasn't worried. Francis can fend for himself," Louis lied. "I am concerned about Zoey though," he ventured carefully, "She's not with the ladies."

Howard eyed Louis brazenly. "She's fine, ate breakfast with some women before the bell."

"Ok." Louis said with a chipper tone, casting confusion on the other man. All he knew was that he needed to stay away from Howard and definitely off his radar. The only way to do that was to fall into line with the other 'doctors' until he could sort things out. Time he felt, was off the essence, that is if Francis was still alive. He hoped Zoey would be fine for the time being.

"Louis." Hansen's gruff voice called out from a nearby table. Louis and Howard turned to him. "Get away from that Vulture." Howard scowled deeply opening his mouth, but Hansen cut him off. "You heard me! That's my patient and he needs to eat."

Before Howard walked away he cast a dark stare at Louis. "Just keep to yourself, don't make waves, and keep that round nose on your face."

Louis bit his cheek hard to keep from snapping back. "Pudgy bastard." He hissed out of earshot as he walked over to take a seat next to Hansen. As he pulled up the chair the elderly doctor gripped Louis's forearm under the table with a startling pressure.

"You didn't listen to me and they already got your friend. I told you to get the hell out. Now it's a lot more complicated." Hansen said softly and calmly, smiling once in a while to make it seem like he was telling a funny story.

"I'm aware."

"I will not be able to help you or we will all be found out."

Louis nodded and laughed facetiously. All? "I understand."

"From here on out you will only discuss your wound with me."

"It aches."

"Grow a pair and deal with it."

An older woman walked up to their table with two trays and set them down deliberately before Louis and Dr. Hansen. "Doctors." She nodded.

"Anne." Hansen acknowledged, nodding in her direction as he looked at Louis.

"Dr. Louis will find the toast to be best dry."

"Thank you, my dear." The good Doctor said warmly to the woman and she walked off. "Do you..."

"It's already in my pocket." Louis confirmed with a whisper then started to eat, relishing the real food. He was sure to move the folded paper quickly and quietly. "Thank you, Hansen."

"For what? I haven't done a damn thing for you and I don't plan to!" He said with as much cantankerous bile as he could muster. Some heads turned then rolled their eyes.

"You have them convinced you're senile." Louis mumbled with a grin.

"No one suspects the nut job."

* * *

He had spent the day working on the laptop, typing a few lines of lazy code once in a while. By the standards of those around him, it was light speed. He had no intention of blazing through the machine in a couple hours and working himself right out of his usefulness. It made sense to him that if they didn't need him anymore there wouldn't be a need to keep him around. Frankly he just wasn't going to leave without Zoey, especially since Francis's fate was unknown. Guilt was beginning to eat at him. They saved his life and it was looking that his repayment was in death and forced captivity.

Tapping home a few more keys he sighed while the machine processed. His attention faltered when a new dialogue box popped up on screen. It appeared there was a subsystem written into the computer, almost like a back door, and it was different... very different. Looking to his sides he was sure not to draw attention to himself and forced himself to look relaxed. This new portal into the computer intrigued him greatly, he had only ever seen the type once before in his post-graduate studies. Remaining silent he kicked his process into overdrive.

He didn't want anyone else to even know there were layers to the machine. Behind him a couple of the other doctors just worked on their microscopes and petri dishes. Satisfied with their complete disinterest in him, he pressed on.

The encryptions were shallow but very complex and exciting. Practically holding his breath he broke down through them like layers of tissue paper on a well wrapped present. With each level he grew more certain about what he was looking at. Pulling up the original DOS prompt he decided to disable the speakers then returned to the special prompt and type the last commands.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when a rare form of desktop appeared. On the center of the screen was a pixelated logo of a camera shutter, or more precisely the _Aperture Labs _logo_._ He wanted to jump, cheer, and make a racket. If he were Indiana Jones, it would be his Ark of The Covenant. Where the computer came from was a mystery, but it had a piece of the rarest technology system in history written onto its hard drive, and it certainly could not stay in the hands of those incompetents.

The biggest question he had now was, _why_? What would a piece of the mysteriously vanished company be doing on a modern laptop in the middle of the North Carolina wilderness? Why would a prick like Howard have it at all? Biting his bottom lip for a second he took one more paranoid glance around and dug a little deeper. Maybe the actual contents of the subsystem would tell him more.

What he found was raw data. Too raw. He could make out chemical compounds and codes, as well as what he thought was DNA encoding maps, but none of it meant much of anything to him. He deducted that the raw data of the slave system was being interpreted by the third party OS he had yet to finish getting into. It was quickly looking like he was going to have to get into it ahead of schedule. He needed to know what all that data actually meant. Maybe the master OS would tell him more than what the data was about, even how it acquired lost Aperture labs technology, maybe even where the lab itself was.

"Louis." Hansen called from the hallway. Peeking up from the laptop he caught Hansen's tired but intense eyes shift into surprise. Louis's excitement wasn't hidden well enough. "Let's get back to the men's house. _Close down_ your work for the night. It's almost curfew."

"Right." Louis said starkly, realizing Hansen's suggestion was more of a warning. He quickly locked the computer with some of his own encryptions just in case some rouge fingers decided to investigate the machine during the night. Tightening up his prosthetic he walked to the door, noticing several sets of eyes monitoring his every step.

Out in the crisp air Louis looked around but when he started to speak, Hansen raised a silencing hand and motioned to the house. They walked in the door, past the foyer where several men read books. Up the stairs of the lodge, Hansen guided him to an office and shut the door behind them.

"I don't want to give a shit, but you found something." Hansen said quietly, his tone low and sharp. Louis merely nodded and stepped closer to whisper.

"Where did that computer come from?"

"That twit Howard had it when he found me and a few others at the VA. Told us nothing about it, but he treated it like gold."

Louis looked thoughtfully to the window, it was beginning to lightly snow again. "You remember the Aperture labs scandal in the early 90's?"

Hansen's face old face wrinkled in stern disbelief. "You mean the tabloid gossip? Son, Aperture labs closed in the early 80's, bankrupt."

"It wasn't gossip... and it just went, uh, _private,_ like hermit private; Cave Johnson was a notorious tax evader."

"So you're saying the reports of live human testing and manslaughter were true?" Hansen sighed sarcastically.

"I am not certain on that front, but what I _did_ find for certain is that there is Aperture technologies system software and encrypted data on that computer. Unmistakable."

"You're actually sure." Hansen stated with a raised eyebrow. Louis nodded vehemently.

"I've been following Cave Johnson sightings like old ladies follow Elvis since I was 12 years old, it's part of the reason I went into computer science. Aperture Labs is the holy grail of the geek community, and I have a piece of it on that laptop."

Hansen leaned back on the table in thought. "Learn more about that data tomorrow, as much as you can. The data itself has to be important. A man like Howard does not care about or collect computer science artifacts."

"When I enter the master OS, I'll find out. I have my own questions."

"Very well." Hansen agreed. Louis turned to reach for the door when Hansen spoke up again, his voice drastically different from before, he actually sounded fearful. "Young man?"

Louis looked back curiously, concerned. "What's up?"

"You don't think..." The old man couldn't finish his question. Across the room Louis swore he saw his shoulders sink. "...you don't think that data could be about the infection? Do you?"

Louis hadn't had that thought. The weight settled on his shoulder and he felt ill. "If... if Howard has information on the cure he might know how the infection started."

Hansen shook his head. "No, son, if he _stole_ it he may have a hand in _starting_ it."

"Let's not jump to conclusions." Louis warned weakly. "If that's true-"

"That man is the _devil_ in the flesh." Hansen whispered, clutching at a charm laying against his skin beneath his shirt. "_God have mercy on us._"

Louis clenched his jaw and twisted the door handle. The computer was more than he had bargained for. He was hoping it was _like_ the geek Ark of The Covenant, not that the information on the computer actually had the power to kill people.

* * *

As the daylight in her tiny basement window faded into evening Zoey shuddered, fighting off the chill. She tried her best not to appear cold as she sat with her knees pulled up to her chest in the corner. There was no way she was going to allow herself to be broken by such circumstances. It was nothing compared to the beginning of the infection, but she was all alone now. No Bill, Louis, or... Francis. Burying her head in her arms she tried to hold back the sobs, she cracked a little anyway.

The lock on the door clicked and the heavy door slid open. An older woman with a tray of food walked in and shut the door behind her. "Zoey?" Peeking up from her corner, Zoey narrowed her eyes at the unfamiliar face.

"What do you want?" She snarled.

"I brought you food." The woman said warmly sitting on the bed rack. Uncovering the warm meal, steam rose up. Zoey's stomach growled at the smell, she hadn't had any food since the previous day. The woman handed her a plate. "Make sure you like the contents of the sandwich before you eat it."

Zoey perked up a bit but remained suspicious. Lifting the top piece of bread, she saw a folded piece of paper. Looking curiously at the older woman, she raised an eyebrow. "It's very starchy."

"My name is Anne." The woman continued, pulling out a small bundle and handing it to Zoey. Looking over her shoulder she sighed before monotonously rambling off prepared words. "This food and warm clothing is an offer of good will from the council. Hopefully you will reconsider your life with us."

"No." Zoey said flatly, slipping the paper out of the sandwich into her track jacket. Anne replied, pleading in her eyes as she slipped off the bed rack to sit across from Zoey.

"At least pretend." She whispered. "If they think you're compliant, they will let you out with the other women. I can help you easier there."

"Help me what?" She hissed under her breath.

"_Escape_." Anne mouthed the word without actually saying it.

"No one helped Francis." She replied coldly then locked eyes with the woman and her venom melted away; there was a deep pain in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, but please take my offer into consideration." She said tonelessly again. "You will be visited tomorrow morning for your decision." Standing, she picked up the empty tray to leave Zoey with her meal. At the door, she looked back with one last sad sigh.

"Wait, Anne, don't go!" The younger woman pleaded. She didn't want to be alone in the cell anymore, it was near unbearable to be alone in silence with your thoughts for so long.

"Say yes tomorrow, dear. Please. Too much more time here will kill you." Anne said honestly exiting the room. The lock echoed in Zoey's ears as she settled down in her corner to eat.

Outside the door Anne was met by Howard. "What?" She snarled. He raised his hands defensively.

"Just watching you work your magic."

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the tray with all her might, wishing to beat the man over the head with it. "Go back to hell, Howard." She turned and walked down the hall out of the building. Howard smiled blankly, looking through the small window in the door at Zoey as she ate her meal. Narrowing his eyes, he checked his watch and left the building as well.

She would break, just like the rest of them. It was for the common good after all.

* * *

The letter was comforting. She knew Louis was working on a plan to get them out, but it didn't really help her current circumstances. Anne's warning was starting to make more sense, and if she had brought a letter from Louis, she couldn't be all that evil. Maybe she'd have to bite her pride and play nicely with the other kids for a while. At least if she was on the surface she could make a run for it if she had to. If she was going to freeze to death she'd rather do it as a free person. Folding the letter carefully she stuffed it inside a pocket in her track jacket. Burying her head back in her arms Zoey's thoughts drifted back to Francis for the hundredth time in the day.

It killed her to just sit there wondering if he was dead or alive. Worse, she couldn't shake just how upset she was about the fact he might be dead. Granted she had grown to appreciate him as a friend and fellow survivor, but there was another confusing layer of grief she was having a hard time dealing with. She really missed him, irritating habits and all.

As inappropriate as he came off, he never actually acted on his innuendos and flirting. He was always downright gentlemanly toward her; as much as he knew how to be. It was as if it was the only way he knew to express his own affection… his _affections._ She knew in her heart that he cared for her, but she had never allowed herself to dwell on it, whether out of denial of his actions or her own buried feelings.

Zoey laughed bitterly to herself. If she hadn't been so damn stubborn she wouldn't have discovered these facts too late. She could have at least enjoyed them for what they were worth, maybe him as well, but it was too late. He was gone.

Burying her face in her arms, Zoey sighed and drifted off to sleep, wondering why her sleeves were getting wet.

* * *

_"Seriously, get down."_

_"Francis, quit whining, there might be good stuff up here!"_

_"It's a barn, Zoey! Only thing up there is hay and bird poop. You fall, I am NOT going to catch you."_

_"Blah, blah, blah. Why don't you go tell on me to Bill you big chicken- SHIT!"_

_The crates she was climbing on tumbled away from beneath and she slipped. At the last second she grabbed a rafter and dangled with a tenuous one handed grip. _

_Crossing his arms he watched as she twisted in the air, unconcerned. "Now that's a little harsh."_

_"Help!" She cried. _

_"What did I tell you?" He rolled his eyes and started calmly for the crates to rebuild the tower. Stacking the boxes at a leisurely pace, a high pitched shriek ran his blood cold. "Let go, NOW!" Francis yelled, pulled out a pistol and anxiously tracked some shadows on the ceiling as something moved in the hayloft. _

_"What?!"_

_"JUST DO IT!"_

_Zoey complied, and was greeted by weightlessness for the next fifteen feet of air. Francis caught her with a grunt and they tumbled back into a hay pile. The shriek wailed again as a hunter appeared at the edge of the loft. Francis pulled his pistol, reached around her with both hands and emptied the clip into the hunter mid flight. It landed in a pile at their feet. _

_They laid still in a bit of shock, Zoey understandably startled. He dropped his arms down and slumped his head back into the hay, trying to regain control of his thundering heartbeat spiked by adrenaline. Coming to her senses she looked down to see his armed hand off to the left and the other arm firmly across her hips, holding her in place. That wouldn't have been so awkward if her legs hadn't been straddling his. Flushing a bright red she jumped up._

_"Thanks, for, uh, the pro catch... dude. I guess there was something up there after all." _

_He smirked, not moving. His back was screaming from the impact. Mustering as much bravado as he could, he winked. "I'll never let you fall, Darling."_

_Zoey rolled her eyes and turned away._

_Bill and Louis finally ran in after hearing the shots._

_"What the hell happened?"_

_Francis puffed out his chest, overacting as he struggled to his feet. "Zoey jumped on me when she got scared! Broke my fricken back! Damn, lay off the peanut butter!"_

_Zoey spun around and glared at him, thankful for the out. "You're an ass, Francis."_

_Louis and Bill shared an irritated grumble and walked back out. Zoey started to follow, but looked back once more to her cushion. She paused as he stretched a bit, rubbing his lower back. Flashes of real pain twisted his face now that the need for his tough guy act was over. With a sigh she trotted over behind him, pushed her hands up under his vest and jammed her thumbs into his lower back muscles. A welt was forming, but it appeared to be mostly muscular... like most things she was feeling. He gasped and stiffened as she kneaded the knots away to keep it from erupting into spasms. After a minute or so he relaxed. _

_"Thanks." He said quietly, then coughed. _

_"Yeah, uh, thank you too."_

_"You two, comin or what?!" Bill barked outside the barn. _

_"Yeah", Zoey yelled, picking up her weapons. Francis followed suit, not making eye contact with her again until they were in the next saferoom. His usual scowl remained in place until right before the lights when out. He focused a very conflicted stare in her direction for a long few seconds then rolled over. Everything returned to normal the next day, all forgotten._

* * *

The next morning Zoey was jarred out of her rest by the loud clinking of the locking mechanism releasing. Bolting upright on her bed rack she jumped to her feet, ready to fight. Howard walked purposefully through the door with a few other people. They all eyed her carefully as she measured them up.

"Well, now that you've had time to think, will you accept our offer?"

"You haven't given me any terms. I have no idea what I'm supposedly accepting."

"Well, die in here, or live out there."

Zoey narrowed her eyes. She wanted to tell him to fuck off, but Anne's pledge of assistance was still ringing in her head. When it came down to it she just had to pretend she was playing nicely. Even Francis could... had... known how to play nicely. The corner of her mouth twitched momentarily as she tried to stuff down her rage again. Thinking about his fate was not going to put her in a generous mood. "Fine. I accept."

"That's what we were hoping to hear." Howard said excitedly. The act was starting to wear thin on her nerves. He was a walking bag of malevolent bullshit. Ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag to be exact. "Anne! You may escort her to the house. She could use some pampering."

"Excuse me?" She spat tonelessly as Anne glided in. Skillfully she intercepted Zoey's glares before she won herself another few nights in the hole.

"Sweetheart, just follow me, please." Anne urged.

Zoey picked up her bag and blankly stared Howard down as she followed Anne up the stairs out of the cellar. Out in the open, she looked around quickly trying to spot Louis, or hell, any sign of Francis. Children and men milled about their business, but her friends were nowhere to be seen as she feared.

"Don't make it obvious that you're looking for someone." Anne said under her breath. Zoey cast her eyes to the ground and followed the older woman until once again they were back at the women's quarters. Inside the doors, Zoey was surprised there was no one around.

"Where is everyone?"

"Working. Let's get up to your room."

Zoey nodded, climbing the stairs. Once they were both inside her small room Anne looked around in the hall then closed the door behind her.

"Why all the secret agent stuff?"

"Not everyone here wants to escape. Some women _like _it here and will do anything in their power to gain favor with Howard._"_

Zoey sat on the bed, resting her hands on her knees. "Ah. So what now? I have doubts that this whole hoopla is about making me live like a queen while the others starve and freeze."

Anne sighed and sat beside Zoey, then warmly picked up her hand. "Your instincts are correct. These people are monsters, my dear. They are convinced there will soon be no other people left in the world. Because of that, they feel they need to immediately get to work on increasing the population. They see it as a twisted duty."

Zoey frowned. "Wait, what? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"They want _you_ pregnant as soon as possible to increase genetic 'diversity'. On Friday they are going to draw randomly for your first mate. If you refuse you will be forced into it anyway. It's why all the girls around here are knocked up, and why all the men they were involved with when they arrived are _gone_."

"But…" Zoey stumbled, thinking of Francis. If she hadn't agreed to come, he would still be alive and she would not be on the podium for, well, raffle. Most importantly, there shouldn't have been any issue. "Anne, Francis…he and I were _not_ involved. We were never even a _thing_!"

"Howard witnessed you sharing an intimate moment with him." Anne sighed. "It was all the justification he needed."

"_Intimate_? I was just warming up! Where did they take him?!"

"I don't know. No man that has ever been taken away has come back."

Zoey leaned back on her hands, shocked and sickened. "Francis..." She swallowed and shook her head, knowing she would have to grieve later. "So they want to knock me up."

"Yes. That's why I want to help you and Louis get out. I can't just sit by and watch anymore as these girls' lives are destroyed."

"Are _you_ pregnant, Anne?"

Anne faltered and looked away. "No. I'm unable to carry children."

Zoey choked on the knot in her throat as the gravity of the situation began to overwhelm her. "Why haven't you just run away?"

"Many have tried, but they just pull the unwilling back and lock them up in the cellar until they comply."

"This is monumentally fucked up, I'd prefer the company of angry tanks and witches." Zoey droned to herself. How the hell did everything go to hell so fast!

"That's an understatement. Well at any rate, we have three days to figure out how to get you out of here. Don't fear for your safety, you will be guarded and untouched until the night of the party. By then we should have a plan."

Zoey squeezed the bridge of her nose. "Don't worry about the plan. Louis will have that under control. Planning is kinda his thing. We only seem to have problems when we don't follow them." She hoped up and walked over to the vanity where some hotel stationary and a pen were laid out. She scribbled a few sentences and ripped the sheet off, handing it to Anne. "He will want proof I am out of the cell and safe, and that you are trustworthy."

"I understand." Anne said while folding the paper to hide in her coat. She stood and zipped up, readying to head out again.

"Anne?" Zoey asked before she reached for the door handle.

"They took your husband, didn't they?"

She paused and looked back, sadness etched on her face. "Yeah."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Thanks. Make sure you lay low, I'll come get you at dinner."

She left the room quietly and Zoey sat on the bed once more. It felt so exposed compared to her usual accommodations. Ripping the blankets and pillows off the bed, she pulled them into the closet and made a nest on the floor. Wrapping up in the warm covers, she allowed herself relax while she hoped the chill from the long night would warm out of her body. It would be hard to rest as her mind mulled the details of escape as well as the possibility if Francis had survived. He always seemed so impervious to the weather, hot or cold. If there was someone who would live through a mess like that, it was him. He would refuse to die out of sheer stubbornness.

She didn't move for the remainder of the evening, staring at the wooden door, ready for anything to enter.

* * *

_"Francis. It's time."_ _Bill lit a cigarette with a molotov and leveled a long apologetic look at Zoey. _

_"What are you doing?" She demanded suspiciously._

_"Keep them safe."_

_"Bill!" _

_He continued to ignore her and climbed down the ladder. Her voice shook. "This isn't funny, Bill! I'm coming with you!" _

_"No!" Francis snapped and pulled her back as she attempted to climb down the ladder._

_"Let me go, Francis! Damnit he's gonna get killed!" She cried, struggling to escape. Pulling back a free hand she deftly sunk her fist into his mouth. He merely flinched as if she had only tapped his cheek. His eyes were distant, no expression on his cold face. It only served to infuriate her more as tears welled up on the lids of her eyes. "I HATE YOU FRANCIS!" _

_They both felt time stop as they witnessed Bill jump off the bridge. He ran headlong into the three tanks and placed his molotov in their midst. They watch in horror as he dodged them and restarted the generator. The machine buzzed to life again and the massive slate of concrete and steel rose into the air. _

_As he turned to run back, he was picked up by a tank. In a flash he was raised into the air and slammed into the ground, then flung into the open door of the power room, a smear of blood marking his path._

_In slow motion Zoey screamed and tried to free herself from Francis's steel grip one last time, but he did not relent. They sunk to the ground on the edge of the bridge and just watched for a couple hours as the infected grew confused and eventually wandered off. _

_The rumble of an engine on the other side of the bridge drew their attention. A voice yelled up, asking if there was anyone up there. Zoey stood strictly out of reflexive curiosity then looked down to Francis as he remained fixated on the red stain. _

_"Should we answer?" She asked looking back and forth between Francis and Louis, who leaned against the control house, staring at his shredded calf._

_"I don't know what to do." Francis finally responded numbly. She wasn't sure if he was even answering her question, maybe the voice would be of some assistance._

* * *

Anne made her way through the courtyard. No one dared bother her as she trudged along, her face stony and cold. Most everyone knew her story that had lived there long enough. They knew her duties and what she had gone through to prove that she couldn't have children, and what they had done to be satisfied she was telling the truth. So she was left alone and never questioned as she headed into the men's side of the compound.

Passing by the doctor's building, she found a secluded spot along the wall and sat on an old walking path bench. About twenty minutes later, Louis exited the back of the doctors' building to join her on the bench, commenting idly on the weather as he pulled the folded sheet of paper into his sleeve she had tossed to the bench as he sat.

"Beautiful day." He lied, in truth he hated the cold and really hated snow. Francis would have been proud of his irrational hatred.

"Indeed."

Walking around the side of the building was a guard. He approached the pair curiously. "What are you up to?" He asked loudly, a strange falseness to his tone. When he came within identifiable distance Louis perked up.

"Oh, hi Kevin. How are you?"

Kevin looked around nervously and addressed them formally again. "May I ask what you are doing?"

Louis and Anne exchanged a quick confused glance. Shrugging, Louis played along. "I am enjoying the weather on my break."

Kevin uncomfortably whispered to them, "I want to help."

"I am not sure what you are talking about." Anne whispered suspiciously. Kevin's eyes pleaded with her.

"It is a beautiful day." Kevin said loudly, then whispered urgently again. "My wife. I need to help you and save my wife. You know she's in the cellar. I don't care whose baby is in her belly, I need to save her."

"Thank you for checking on me, Kevin." Anne replied loudly, then whispered back. "It's up to Louis."

Louis wasn't sure what to do with that. He wasn't about to help every Tom, Dick, and Harry that popped up and threw their hat on the table. If he wasn't such a soft hearted man, he would have been able to say no. He leaned over and quietly replied to Kevin. "Ok, but in no way can it interfere with my plans."

"I understand." He replied plainly then sighed, "I just need enough time to pull her out."

Louis looked back and forth between the two. "I will need you both to gather some information and run some errands for me over the next several days..."

* * *

The next days passed without incident. For the most part she was left alone when she wasn't required to see to work duties. She tried her best not to make waves or draw any sort of attention to herself. The more she blended into the background, the better.

Letters from Louis trickled in via Anne a couple times a day. She only got enough information to know what her job was. Easily enough it was just to do nothing. The less suspicion she drew to herself the better. She was the one everyone would be focused on and since she knew so little, she wouldn't even be looking for signs of progress. Unfortunately it made her nervous to be so idle. Since she knew so little the other issue was that she would have no clue if things were going well or very poorly. Whatever the case, she trusted Louis. She had no one else left once they escaped. It was becoming a grim prospect, but not as much as staying was. Food and shelter be damned, she was no breeding mare.

Collapsing in the closet once she was cleaned up after a hard day's chores, she curled up in the blankets and situated herself to look out the window. The snow was flying hard that evening, anyone who was out in it was guaranteed to be miserable. She hoped that if he were alive, Francis was not stuck in the middle of it.

Maybe it was just best to assume Francis was dead. She only served to crush her own hopes by not accepting it yet. She also didn't want to tease herself with some grand rescue or break out of jail fantasy. If he were alive, he would have attempted it already as it was. Francis was no planner, philosopher, or brain; that was Louis's job. Francis was the muscle, the determination and the drive she and Louis relied on when things looked bad. When no one else could step forward, he would almost literally pick them both off the ground and move forward. There would have been no escaping the bridge without him. In a lot of ways he had stepped forward into Bill's roles of the motivator and protector. While Louis had taken over as strategist.

The more she thought about it, Zoey felt her confidence plummet. What the hell was she good for? Francis and Louis both had roles to fill and did so with gusto. She just... just...

_She clenched her eyes shut and squeezed him tighter, burying her forehead in his chest, smiling as he babbled on, his chest rumbling against her head with each utterance. "Zoey, the only thing I do know is that you're the sticky shit that holds us all together. Without you, there is no us."_

_"Francis, all I got out of that was something about sticky shit."_

She sniffled, wiping her eyes. "I wasn't sticky enough. I'm sorry, Francis."

The rest of the time before falling asleep she couldn't shake the draft from the window, even under a mountain of blankets. The chill of guilt, loss, and hopelessness was impossible to shake.

* * *

_Francis slowly woke from a dreamless sleep and returned back to a cold concrete floor as the steady rain fell outside the door. Chilled breezes washing over him sent full body shivers down his spine. If he'd still been sleeping he would have been able to ignore that unpleasantness, but it was not the weather that had awakened him. It was the weeping. _

_He lay awake for several minutes just listening, hoping it would fade away into the night. They were not the crocodile tears of the witch but actual sorrowful mourning from a much more human source. With an irritated grunt he rolled over; it wasn't his job to console her. In fact he was waiting for either of the other two to do it, most likely Bill, but it never happened. She just continued to cry into her arms as the minutes passed. It wasn't the first time he had heard her in the week he'd been with them, but it was the first time she didn't cry herself to sleep after ten or fifteen minutes. _

_Another frozen breeze drifted through the bars of the shattered saferoom windows sending goosebumps up his arms and down his neck. Weeping or not, there would be no falling back asleep in those miserable conditions. Heaving an frustrated sigh, he called on his stiff muscles to sit up, taking a moment to stretch before rising. He left his weapons by the wall and stealthily moved toward the sound emanating from the corner. Stopping by the main weapons table he picked up a molotov and lit the fabric wick. Using the firelight to guide the way through the lions den, he found his target sitting under a table backed into a corner with her knees pulled up to her chest. She forced herself silent when she saw the light coming her way and he sat down beside her. He set the torch between them and watched as she wiped her eyes with her sleeves, trying to replace the sorrowful look with a hardened scowl she hadn't quite mastered yet. _

_"It's ok." He whispered. "I don't know what you're going on about, but you might as well not do it alone. I'll just sit here and watch the door so you don't have to. No one's going to sleep in this shit weather."_

_She sniffled, listening to him as he babbled on. _

_"It's really a screwed up situation, that's for damn sure. The only consolation I can offer in all of this is at least I'm not ugly. Louie ain't bad lookin either. Bill's old so he don't count. Can you imagine how horrible this would be if you have to face the end of the world with ugly people? Just makes you shiver thinking about it. If I looked like that boomer I'd have to off myself for the sake of others." _

_A warm smile slowly thawed her face, but she hid it in the crook of her coat._

_"Also, I'm good at shooting vampires. So I can shoot and I won't break a mirror with my face. That ain't a half bad stack of cards if you ask me."_

_Despite her smile more tears seeped out the corners of her eyes, which he ignored for her sake, but he could not ignore her trembling through the thin blanket. He picked up the molotov torch and motioned for her to scoot next to him and she eyed him with hesitation._

_"I won't try anything funny. You need to warm up or you won't survive the night."_

_She considered him for a brief second, his face serious and open in the firelight. After a moment of deliberation she gave in, so cold she couldn't bear it any more. Once she settled into his side, he held the torch up before her. _

_"Come on, warm your hands."_

_She held out her shaking fingers before the torch, sighing as the heat spread up her arms. Along with the warmth from his body thawing her to the core, she was starting to feel better... and finally sleepy. Before she knew it, she had fallen peacefully asleep for the first time in weeks._

_The next morning she awoke by herself under the table, wrapped tightly in her thin blanket. She was surprised that she hadn't had any nightmares. Francis was across the room, sitting on watch at the door, never venturing a single glance in her direction. The only evidence that the previous night wasn't a dream was the empty 40oz bottle with a burnt piece of fabric still hanging out the mouth._


	8. Open Eyes

**Ch 7: Open Eyes**

Gently, Zoey placed the worn hairbrush on the vanity and frowned at the face staring back at her in the mirror. Without the dirt, blood, scratches, and bruises, it was hard to recognize herself. It was someone else... someone she used to know before the infection stole her life away. Clean and styled hair framed her perfectly toned face, glowing from skin products and makeup. She hadn't worn makeup in months and she tried to tell herself she was only dressing up to play the part, yet... it felt so good to be put together again.

Embarrassed at the admission, she looked down and clasped her hands in her lap. In truth, the fresh look only served to humiliate her as she passed by mirrors earlier around the house. Francis was gone and Louis was in grave danger, and she somehow had the nerve to even indulge in such vain ideas? That girl in the mirror was dead, and she was only wearing her skin for the time being.

"Isn't that better?"

The voice set her blood to boil. He'd entered without so much as the click of the door or a courtesy knock.

"Much." She said dryly, continuing to focus on her fisted hands. The floor boards creaked as he approached through the open door, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. "I thought men weren't allowed in here."

"I'm not just any man."

"Of course not." _You're a demon. _Refusing to look up, she stiffened when his meaty hands rested on her shoulders.

"My, you are a pretty one." Howard said appreciatively, running a couple fingers through her hair. Snapping up, she tried to keep her face blank, but there was a fire in her eyes he did not miss when they met his in the mirror. He did not falter, but smiled. "There it is, all that _hate_."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I _love_ it here." Zoey said monotonously with a clenched jaw. It wasn't the first time he'd been by to see her, and with each visit he let his _appreciation_ show more.

How she wished she were a Witch so she could tear his stomach wide open and toss his guts around like party ribbons. Never had she possessed such a strong desire to do harm to another human being. Grabbing the sides of her chair, she began to squeeze, digging her fingers into the wood.

He leaned over by her ear and whispered, dropping the politicians' voice he used with the public, and the other women. For a day or so, he'd been more than happy to let his darkness show to her. "Lie all you want. Hate me all you want," He began and started to painfully squeeze her shoulders. Even if he halfway killed her, she wouldn't grant him the satisfaction of seeing her in any kind of pain. He breathed in her ear as he spoke. "You will be tamed, ridden, and broken just like a horse."

Though intended to inspire fear in her it hardened her resolve like tempered steel. She would be no victim. Again she fantasized of those foot long claws and super human strength, and her hands clenched even tighter. The wood must have been rotten as it felt like a sponge as her fingers crushed it like sandstone. Eyes open, expressionless, she turned around in her chair and looked up at him. "I have _nothing_ left to lose, and I don't fear death, Howard."

"You should. _He_ did." Howard spit coldly. Zoey smiled hollowly.

"You know we're carriers. If your morons actually managed to kill him, I wonder what he'll come back as, and who for? He is big enough for tank stock." She lied, knowing full well the infected transformation process took place in live tissue. He may not.

Howard straightened up quickly, taken back by the dead look in her eyes. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn they glowed red for the briefest second. Hiding his surprise, he stared at her once more as he backed out of the room. She would pay dearly for knocking him off balance yet again. Feeling less than secure, he quickly made his way out to the guard shack. Throwing open the front door, he stumbled in from the blowing snowstorm.

"Go make sure the bastard is dead!" He roared, slamming the door shut behind him.

"It's storming like hell out there!"

"I DON'T CARE!"

Back in her room, Zoey quietly closed the door and leaned against it, taking a deep breath. Looking back across the room into the vanity mirror, she frowned.

"Way to go, jackass. You lost your parents. You lost Bill. You lost... Francis." She paused and sighed. "And you have no freaking clue if Louis is actually ok or if you're being played."

She turned away from the mirror and switched off all the lights. With a long defeated sigh, she laid into her nest in the closet, listening to the howling of the wind and the snow. The party was the next night. She would spend the entire day getting dressed like a doll for her 'presentation'. The thought made her feel like a dog at a show. Just like a door prize at an auction she was going be given to the lucky winner drawn out of the bowl. Knowing that, how the hell did she even enjoy being painted up for even a second?

She shuddered. If Louis's plan didn't work she had to be ready. With open arms she'd accept death before being a slave whore. She'd run, she'd fight, and if it came down to it, she'd kill anyone who got in her way. Whatever happened, she would never give up. Francis would expect that from her. She wouldn't let him down again, even if only in memory.

* * *

Louis bid good night to his unwelcome visitor and shut his room door. Rubbing his hands together to generate some heat, he sat on the bed and stared at the empty one across from him. At some moment during the day someone had entered the room and placed something on the bed. Louis assumed it was a warning sign to deter him from any rash actions. While he had never made his intentions obvious, he knew the people in charge weren't exactly stupid.

Francis's coat laid out on the bed, arms stretched out to the sides as if someone had laid on their back and melted out of it. He didn't touch it, because it would become too real if he did, and he needed to stay focused on the task ahead. The dried blood on the collar stuck out like a sore thumb, the crackling pattern of caked substance hard to ignore. The last doctor in the room had looked back and forth from it to him frequently, searching for some sort of expression or admission. Louis remained calm and focused during the visit.

Whatever their intentions had been, the warning item only inspired his drive to escape and often overwhelming anger. Most of it was focused within. If he hadn't been so adamant they would have left those idiots at the VA in the dust, and Francis would be alive. Now his blood was on Louis's hands and he honestly didn't know if that was something he could live with. Francis wasn't just some random guy, he was a friend, probably one of the best Louis had ever had. He was a man that stood by him and stared unwaveringly into the abyss; someone that kept his eyes open even when he blinked his own. Above that, Francis had literally carried Louis on his own shoulders, even when he had his own burden to bare. When the instincts of a lesser individual would have left him to die, the seemingly unmovable man reached out his own hand to a near stranger and helped him up.

Louis laid back on his creaky bed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The growing headache felt like a welcome break from his immense guilt.

Another knock came at the door. Groaning, he rolled off the bed and hopped over to the door, unwilling strap on the prosthetic again. Throwing the door open with a frustrated grunt he spoke before he even saw who it was.

"What the hell do you want now?!"

He regretted it instantly as a fist flew through the entryway and sent him sprawling back into the room. As the door slammed, he was man handled off the ground and thrown into a wall, head spinning as he caught the sight of that fist coming his direction one more time. In an instant his world erupted into stars.

* * *

Hiding her misery was the hardest part of it all. The slinky dress was bearable, but cheesy. The hair and makeup was an awful trailer trash mess, but amusing. Sitting before the mirror she saw it all as war paint for going into battle. After Howard's last visit she had decided she would either escape or die at the end of the night. It was _her_ body to be given only when and to who she decided. If they wanted it that bad, they could have it but it wouldn't be warm, and she wouldn't be in it.

A soft knock at the door brought Zoey out of her growing rage. Shaking her head she addressed the visitor. "Come in."

Anne stepped in quickly and shut the door behind her. She was clearly torn and uncomfortable with where the evening was heading. The greatest part of her wanted to just find a way to push Zoey out the door, but Louis's plan was very specific for good reason. She hoped he was as smart as he sounded. "Ready?" She asked heavily.

Zoey stood from the bed staring herself down in the mirror one more time. While failure was not an option, it was a distinct possibility. "Don't have much of a choice."

They made their way out to the dining lodge in the center of the complex amid a entourage of women. The snow had stopped for the night, but a bright moon hung above like a reaper ready to strike. Once inside the lodge, their coats were removed and they were escorted to the decorated dining area. People clamored about, most of the men half drunk already. The same men heckled as they filed in, many addressing her by name promising the night of her life. It was a very dangerous situation. There were scores of drunk horny men, only one of which was going to win the lottery of a promise of an all access pass to her body. Well, that's what they thought anyway.

At the head table she was given a seat by Howard, who seemed to have an almost 'dear leader' status with his followers. He was hailed as the man that saved humanity. Zoey had to fight the urge to stab him with her butter knife when she took her seat.

"You look incredible. What do you think, gentlemen?" Howard said loudly at her, drawing some more hoots from the crowd gathering at the table. In the center of the room some sort of master of ceremonies called everyone to their seats, relieving her from the mass of predatory stares. The evening had begun, the clock started counting down.

Hours slowly passed by, then for the first time that evening Zoey felt terror take root in her heart. She hoped beyond hope the fact she couldn't find Louis in the crowd meant the plan was in motion. The festivities were coming to a climax and she didn't know how much longer she'd be in the safety of the crowd. Out of the kitchen came the massive fishbowl full of paper slips. Trailed by a line of cheering people, mostly men. Growing into a flurry, the noise reached nearly unbearable limits in the small packed lodge. Zoey sat back, gripping the arm rests of the chair with white knuckles. Her heart was defying her and raced as her adrenaline surged.

Howard stood from his chair as the bowl approached, secretly tossing Zoey a menacing stare before turning to the crowd.

"It's the moment you've all been waiting for! In this community we take the future of humanity very seriously, which is why we all agree to take part in the tradition that founded this town." The crowd silenced as he continued. "We all know there would be no chance without the willingness of these amazing women. So without further adieu, let's strike our next match."

He dug around in the bowl, making a grad display of being 'fair'. She knew better though, no matter what piece of paper came out of that bowl, it would ready only one name. It almost made her ill to see him feign surprise.

"What a surprise." Holding the strip of paper up in the air Howard addressed the crowd. "It looks like tonight our new jewel Zoey will be partnering with _me_."

Half the crowd cheered, the other half grumbled and dispersed. Zoey didn't think they were all that surprised either. Still, the knots in her stomach were turning to cramps. Without warning he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, his fingers bruising her skin with the unnecessary force.

"Let's go, _dear_." He hissed. They left without further ceremony, Howard's jolly facade cracking with each passing second. In the open courtyard, Zoey tried to keep up in the dress as he practically dragged her along. It was bitterly cold on her arms and shoulders, but not enough for the numbness she desired. No screams or terrified cries came out of her mouth, which seemed to make him even more furious, and his hand gripped harder.

Stumbling in the front door of the women's house, he slammed the door then pushed her up the stairs to her own room. That's what she was hoping for. At the vanity she gripped the back of the chair and waited for the sound of the closing mechanism of the handle latch into place.

In the mirror she watched as he wasted no time and stepped aggressively toward her. Spinning around Zoey snarled and flattened him with the chair, pieces of splintered wood flying in every direction as he fell to the floor. He cursed through blood in his mouth, knowing it would come to this. Scrambling back to his feet he tackled Zoey to the ground, she punched, kicked, and did as much damage as she could muster. Pulling out her pocket knife she'd liberated from the convenience store, she flipped it open and sliced a deep line down the side of his face. He howled out in pain as the blood raced down his torn skin, bits of it dripping on her face and neck.

Pulling back to sink the blade into his neck, she was too slow and was blocked. With a snarl he clocked her and she dropped the knife. It slid out of reach across the floor boards and under the bed. She grunted in pain and her vision grew fuzzy as he quickly hit her a few more times. Pain radiated out from her cheeks and the room spun. Howard paused when a rustling outside the door alerted him. Silence followed and in the distraction Zoey lurched up and head butted him. Growling, he punched her one last time and she blacked out.

"I knew you're a fighter. Like it rough, don't you?" I bet that son of bitch screwed you senseless on a regular basis. My turn."

Zoey mumbled incoherently as she surfaced near but did not breach consciousness. He jumped off of her limp body and flipped her over, hoisting her hips up into the air as her face was pressed firmly into the wood floor. Pulling up her dress he found the hemline of her underwear and began to pull it down.

The door exploded inward, shards of wood sprinkled the room and Howard's malice instantly turned to fear. Zoey's eyes fluttered and shut again, her body slumping to the side in a fetal position.

"Who are you?! NO! Don't shoot! Don't-" Howard screeched as his presence was ripped away from behind her.

She couldn't see but she heard a pained grunt and then something fell in a crumpled heap on the ground. A sensation of weightlessness came upon her as her vision slowly returned to her. She came into focus on a set of angry dark brown eyes behind a black ski mask. Rough fingers gently brushed hair out of her face then grazed each of the swelling welts on her cheeks and eyes. The slight touch sent pain shooting through her face and she cried out. Above all of it was a nauseating ringing.

Her weightlessness dissipated as she was placed on something soft. The brown eyes disappeared and were replaced by a wood panel ceiling. Slowly closing her eyelids she danced with the urge to sleep, but the sound of breaking glass jarred her back to consciousness. Sitting up and fighting vertigo she turned to see the blurry image of a figure standing before a broken window. Panic set in and she tried to scoot away as tears streamed down her aching cheeks. Covering her head with her arms, she flattened herself against the wall, shuddering with fear.

"Please... don't..."

"Zoey... _darling._"

Her eyes popped open at the familiar strained voice. She forced herself to focus on the man when he sat on the edge of the bed. Ripping off the mask he extended a hand to her. Gasping in shock, fresh tears of joy streamed down her abused cheeks.

"_Francis_!?" She cried, throwing herself across the bed and clamping her arms around his neck, worry and stress swiftly melting away. "You were dead!" She bawled, pushing back to look him. His bruises and cuts as well as minor frostbite were still an angry red and purple on his face and neck, but he was still a sight for her sore eyes. "Francis, oh my God, Francis..." Overwhelmed with relief and excitement, she desperately pressed a hard kiss to his mouth, refusing to indulge the fear that he was just a figment of her imagination.

Flinching in wide eyed and immense shock, a smile tugged at his mouth as he tasted the salty tears on her lips. Surrendering to relief he responded, clutching her tiny frame to his. Something in him felt that he should stop, but he couldn't, concussion or not. She was why he had come back in the first place, and the depths of his elation at finding her alive was burying all reason.

Forcing herself to pull back she rested her forehead against his. She wanted to say so much, but the fog just garbled her thoughts. "I...I'm wearing an ugly dress... hungry... " Finally she reached up and gently laid her hands on the sides of his face which was in need of a shave. "I never thought I'd see you again. And I..." Memories of the long lonely nights flowed uninvited into her stream of consciousness. Flashes of days where she knew he was dead renewed her raw grief, prompting tears to fall freely again. A wave of nausea overcame her and she tried to steady herself by gripping his shoulders. Knowing what came next by the color of her complexion, he quickly positioned her over the edge of the bed and she expelled the contents of her stomach.

"Zoey?" He asked as her eyes closed and her face twisted in pain. He had seen head injuries in the past, as well as had his own, and she was quickly walking down a dangerous path. Panic returned as she drifted out of coherence and came back. Wiping her face with a blanket, he helped her set on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to steady her.

"I threw up." She said hollowly, staring at the puddle on the ground. "Right there."

"I saw that."

"Francis, I tried to fight him." She promised tiredly.

"You screwed him up pretty bad. Proud of you." He assured her and looked around knowing it was time to go. They were lucky to not have been swarmed yet.

Zoey stiffened and pulled back, looking wildly around. "Wait, where is he?!"

"Had to catch a flight." Francis commented darkly. At the broken window blood dripped down the remaining shards of glass. "He will _never_ touch you again."

"Is he dead?"

"Not completely." He paused, narrowing his eyes as he examined the puffy skin on her face that was darkening as blood flowed beneath the surface. She was hit hard_. A few times._ Voice lowering with malice he continued. "But if those bruises get any worse I may have to finish the job." For the first time he was thinking about making an exception to his policy of no killing. If the blood on her face and dress had been her own, he would have already finished the job.

Queasily clenching her eyes shut while fighting another wave of vertigo, she grunted, trying to keep the nausea at bay. Francis frowned, they needed to go but there was no way she'd be able to move under her own power.

"Zoey, look at me." He ordered, lifting her chin with his fingers. "We need to go. Promise you will stay awake."

"Ok." She whimpered. Francis wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and hefted her up into his arms as she fell weakly against him. Quickly as he could move they deserted the house.

"Does Louis know you're alive?" She mumbled, steam rising from her mouth in the crisp night air.

"Yes and since we haven't been mobbed yet, I'm guessing he's working some John Wayne shit."

* * *

The party raged on once Howard stormed off with Zoey. Some guards had come in looking for him, but once they found out where he was, decided the news could wait. Unfortunately, the news would have been very beneficial to Howard as it was discovered that there was no corpse left where they had interned the latest prisoner. However, since animals and infected often made off with bodies, it wasn't really a big deal. Little did they know, that corpse wasn't dead and that Howard desperately needed help that would never come.

Out in the crowd, Louis took his cue on their exit and respectfully bowed out from his table to go back to his room and rest. Escorted by a couple guards he made his way quickly back to the men's dorm. Once he was inside his room the outside door mechanism was locked tight. There was a brief exchange between the guards as they walked down the stairs and back to the party. Once he could no longer see them from his window he pulled a small leather case out of his pocket and in minutes there was nothing left in the room but two empty beds.

Moving swiftly in the shadows along the wall, Louis made a beeline for the armory. Guards were very scarce, nothing more than a skeleton crew, which made his job that much easier. Checking his watch for time he set to work inside the armory, setting up his traps and acquiring some of his confiscated possessions. Holding the cold steel of his M16 again, he smiled.

"Did you miss me, baby?"

He prayed Francis wouldn't be late. As much as he knew Zoey would put up a tough fight, the odds were just not with her. He couldn't worry about it further, if he made a single misstep they would all end up dead. Besides, there was no need to fret over Francis's motivation to save her, he was practically rabid when he demanded to know her whereabouts during his 'visit' the other night. Louis thought the man was going to kill him for losing track of Zoey. He practically had to beg for his life to prevent himself from getting beat to death. Louis's face still ached where the giant fist had impacted. Thankfully the note from Zoey had eased Francis's rage and he was able to convince him of the fact he was in the middle of planning an escape.

When it came down to it, Louis would do anything to keep his two friends from being hurt. That included risking the lives of all the people in that colony; to him there was no debate to be had. With all they had done for him, and the magnitude of the mess they were in at the moment, he owed them everything he had and would risk everything to save them. Just like Bill tried to make them all understand, as a unit they had become family. Louis was sure that very reason was why Francis was willing to give him a chance to defend himself instead of just beating him to a pulp. If Zoey's escape hadn't depended so heavily on him he would have let Francis work his rage out anyway.

Pulling out a small electronic wireless control he hit a button and it chirped to life. Once Francis had slipped away into the darkness Louis had spent the remainder of the previous night programming the remote to stashes of C4 and boomer bile mixtures Kevin had planted around the compound. He had completed the final explosive placement himself in the ammunition storage just a few minutes earlier when he went to reclaim their guns... and anything else that looked interesting. Strapping all the weapons and ammo to himself he stood from his hiding space. Testing his prosthetic for a second he stepped confidently out in to the open. He was consistently pleased with the performance and comfort of it. With one more stop to pick up the Aperture laptop he approached the lodge and readied himself for the final confrontation.

Raising the detonator into the air he hit a button. A large explosion was followed by a fire ball several hundred yards behind him. The crowd in the open lodge door ducked for cover with some screams and shocked gasps. The music stopped immediately as all eyes focused on him. To his advantage, most of the people before him were drunk on hillbilly moonshine, irrational, and generally stupid.

"That was your main armory." He yelled, voice echoing off the rafters. "This remote is programmed to detonate six more explosives placed around the compound. Each explosive is attached to a gallon of boomer bile and a block of C4. If I release the button my thumb is on, they will all detonate. However if I press the keycode before releasing, nothing will happen." He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and spun, cocking his pistol. "You sneaking off! The bombs are rigged to detonate individually as well if you try to defuse them."

"What do you want!?" Anne cried out desperately, acting along with his charade.

"Just my friends. We want to leave and not be followed. I built this detonator out of a cell phone, which means I could detonate from miles away. If I think for a second we are being followed, I will serve you up on a platter for any wandering infected."

The crowd grew hysteric and some started to babble. One woman screamed out, "You're a monster!"

"I just want my friends." One man jumped up and started to rush Louis. Louis fired the pistol in the air again and the man dropped to the ground and covered his head. "I don't know how to make my directions more clear."

Francis walked out of the shadows with Zoey in his arms. When they reached the crowd Francis stood next to Louis, a deadly expression on his face. Shocked awe rose up from the crowd at their appearance.

"You should all know." Francis yelled, silencing them. Louis looked to Zoey and nearly wretched at the deep bruises forming on her face and over her eyes. "Any man that went on a _long_ hunting trip, is dead and tied to a tree about a mile east of here." Women in the group began weeping at the news.

More figures stepped out of the shadows with M16s. It was Kevin, his wife Mary and all the women and girls who had been held captive in the cells. He had gone out after them once Howard and Zoey had left the lodge.

"This ends today!" Kevin yelled. "No more hen house, no more raffles. We're gonna start acting like decent people."

Louis shook his head, taking another long look at Zoey, uninterested in any of the crowd's further reactions. She had put up with so much. Guilt ate at his stomach and overcome by a bought of fury he turned back to the crowd and silenced them with one last shot of his pistol in the air.

"The US Government is still out there, we've seen the Military first hand. When they find all those healthy men you killed and pregnant young girls, they will come after you. I strongly suggest you listen to Kevin and straighten your asses up before they get here." Raising the remote to the sky again for emphasis he reiterated, "My threat remains. Don't follow us, don't look at us, fuck, don't even think about us!"

Hoisting Zoey mostly onto one arm, Francis unstrapped his shotgun from Louis's back resituated her then turned to walk away. Louis snarled in disgust and made to follow him, but first picked out Hansen in the crowd. The old man smiled warmly and nodded just for him.

"Wait!" Kevin shouted, he and his wife trotted next to them. "Are you sure you don't want to stay? Despite what happened, this place is safer than what's out _there._"

"I'm sorry." Louis said, pausing for a second. "What's out there doesn't scare us anymore. What's in there did." He finished and turned away.

"Thank you for everything." Kevin called after them. "We will make sure no one follows you."

They walked out the large door and it closed behind them with a thud. Sentries watched them closely, guns down, until they were out of sight.

Zoey grew heavy in Francis's arms, but he pushed on. Within 15 minutes they climbed down into a small ravine. Laying prone were a couple dirt bikes covered in debris and snow. Francis set Zoey down carefully and helped Louis uncover and right the vehicles.

"I can't believe you had enough time to get two of these things up here. That's what, ten miles to the cabin?" Louis said in amazement.

"I was motivated."

"Won't they follow our tracks back to the cabin?" Zoey asked weakly. Louis sighed with relief at her coherence. He knelt and gently reached out to touch her swollen face and her eyes watered at the pain. More than anything he wanted to sit and explain how sorry he was, but he didn't think there was enough time in the world to get it all across.

"Not as much snow further down the mountain." Francis assured her. He watched Louis examine her face praying he wouldn't find anything that couldn't heal on its own.

"Look at me, Zo." Louis asked softly, raising her chin. He let out a relieved sigh. "Your pupils are even. There's no pressure in your skull."

Francis closed his eyes for a second, relieved, but there was no time to celebrate. "Louis, I need you to take on a passenger."

"What?" Louis and Zoey echoed. Francis whistled loudly and waited. The others looked around, waiting for another person to come walking out of the trees.

Rustling sounded above them and a dog came scrambling down the side of the riverbank. Zoey and Louis stared blankly until the dog ran up to Zoey and began licking her face. She pushed it away because of the pain, but continued to pet it. Her reflexive smile hurt.

Louis gave Francis a contemplative stare. "Uh, what the hell is this?"

"It's Bill." Francis said and patted his leg to get the dog's attention. The dog trotted over with tail wagging and sat at his feet. "I owe him my life."

"_Bill_? How hard did they hit you?" Zoey asked in disbelief.

"I'm serious, it's printed on his collar."

Louis leaned over and read the tag twice. "I'll be damned. It is Bill."

The dog wagged his tail incessantly and resumed giving Zoey its full attention. Francis smirked. "Anyway, Bill kept me from freezing to death, so we're keeping him."

Louis pet the dog who laid down and rested his head on his lap. A tattered red service dog vest with a white cross covered the dog's back. "He's a search and rescue dog."

"Or something." Francis shrugged. He jumped to his feet and hoisted up Zoey. "We need to move out, just in case those asshats change their minds."

* * *

They returned to the cabin quickly, thankfully most of the snow had melted during the sunny day. Pulling up to the garage Francis dismounted and helped Zoey off the bike. She was still very unsteady and would be nursing a heavy concussion for a while. However she refused to be carried any farther, but that didn't stop her from holding onto Francis's arm as she stumbled into the cabin.

Louis put the bikes away, relishing his renewed mobility. In the garage their travel bikes were packed and ready to go. Francis's original plan had them leaving the second they reached the cabin, but with Zoey's injuries, they would no longer be able. He stored the two dirt bikes while Bill sniffed around, briefly taking chase after a field mouse. Once finished Louis locked up the garage doors and paused to look at the cabin. He didn't want to go in just yet, his stomach turned whenever he saw Zoey's abused face.

Walking around the side of the garage he sat on the firewood pile. Bill trotted up to him and sat at his feet. Louis smiled momentarily and pet the shepherd.

"I guess we just can't get on without a Bill of some kind. I wonder how you've been surviving on your own."

As if to answer his question Bill's ears alerted and he leapt up to take off into the forest when a small rustling caught his attention. A small flash of white fur ran between the trees followed deftly by the dog. Leaning back against the garage Louis looked over the small clearing the cabin and garage set in. The stars and a sliver of moon gently washed the scene with soft blue light. Small remnants of snow patches seemed to glow.

Comforted by the peaceful scene he relaxed by sinking back against the garage. The stress of the last week finally started to melt away. Reaching under the neckline of his shirt he gently clasped a charm hanging on a golden chain then released it. So much had changed in his life in such a short time. He wondered where this whirlwind journey was going to let them out.

* * *

_Once his office building had been overrun he had made his way to the condominium his parents lived in. He was surprisingly quick and agile, always had been, so avoiding the infected wasn't too difficult as long as he could find a way out. He had seriously contemplated walking on to the track team at MIT when he was in school, it wouldn't have been hard._

_The building he'd been aiming for was ravaged just like the others. Fighting his way to the 14th floor with a fireman's axe he had been relieved to see that his parent's door was unscathed. It was locked, but there was no answer when he rang the bell. Pulling out his keys he unlocked the door and made his way in, axe ready to strike._

_The unit was exactly as he remembered. Family heirlooms and photos everywhere. Nothing had been rustled or looted, which gave him hope. Each room was clear. Maybe they had been evacuated. _

_Turning the last corner into the bedroom his shoulders slumped and he dropped his axe._

_"Oh... Mama... Pop..."_

_The room was in perfect condition, everything and everyone where they belonged. Laying side by side on the queen bed holding hands in their Sunday best were his parents. Inflated clear garbage bags encased their heads like astronauts. They had simply suffocated themselves and fallen into eternal rest. Peaceful expressions remained on their faces. At the foot of the bed was an envelope resting on a medium size box. _

"To Our Son."

_Louis picked up the envelope and opened it. There was a handwritten letter in his mother's style. _

"Dear Louis,

Our beautiful Son, we have been watching the infection progress on TV all week. This morning we watched as the streets below us were overrun. People in our building began to evacuate, but we knew what was ahead. We stayed where we were, knowing what was to come. Once the monsters had entered our building we set to work.

We did not make our decision lightly, knowing that you would be coming for us if you were safe. Your father and I both are certain you would not be taken. You are simply too bright. However we were not willing to be the dead weight that might drag you down and get you killed, or to put you through watching us get torn limb from limb.

Know we went on our own terms, together, just like we had hoped and prayed for. Not everyone gets to take the great journey into the unknown with the love of their life. We laid here together; unafraid and thinking of you, our greatest achievement.

We love you, Louis, and when you and Jesus finally see eye to eye on how the world was made, we pray you find Him. He will give you that "sense of direction" you keep talking about.

Thrive, our son. We will always be watching over you. Please take these final tools we have prepared for you as your parents.

Love always,

Mama and Pop

PS. We still want Grandbabies even if we can only watch them from heaven."

_Louis sniffled forlornly and wiped his eyes then folded the letter back up. Picking up the envelope he paused when he felt something solid. Emptying the contents in his hand he smiled at the golden locket his mother had worn since the day he was born, a gift from his father. A cross was etched on the front and inside were two brand new pictures. Once it had held two other pictures, one of himself as a boy and the other of his father in his younger days. Now it held two pictures of his parents one from years before and one from a month earlier when they had their 35th Anniversary portraits. _

_He smiled sadly and adorned the necklace, hiding it protectively under his collared shirt._

_Picking up the box, he placed it on his lap. On the cover written in black sharpie was his father's handwriting. Pulling off the top he smiled. It was his father's belt from his days as an MP in the Marines as well as the Uzi he had picked up at an auction several years earlier during his mobster movie kick. Attached to the gun was a note from his father. "Son, I have modified this to be fully automatic. I don't think gun laws are going to be an issue anymore. -Pop"._

_He removed his black belt and strung up the heavy duty MP belt. It had the pistol already in holster as well as pouch for multiple 9mil magazines on both sides. There was also a new magazine holster for the Uzi clips. Everything was loaded._

_Turning back to face his parents he sighed. They looked so peaceful. Both dressed in their newest clothing in preparation for the crossing. He walked up to them and removed the bags from their heads. After smoothing down any stray hairs he laid final goodbye kisses on their foreheads. They looked like they were merely sleeping and would wake up any second. With all the carnage he had seen in the few blocks between the office and their home, he was suddenly very grateful that this would be the last memory of his beloved family. He would remember them in death as in their life: perfect, happy, together. Placing his hand over their joined hands, now rigidly joined together through rigor mortis, he choked back a sob._

_"I love you, Mama, Pop." _

_This was their tomb, and Louis decided that there would be no opportunity for it to be defiled by anyone. Walking to the kitchen table he lit all of his mother's decorative candles. Stopping by the fridge he made himself a full meal, eating at the family dinner table one last time. He made settings and plates for his parents. Once he was finished he took one last longing look around the condo. On the stove he flipped on all four gas burners to high without igniting them. He cocked the Uzi and stepped out the door, locking it behind him._

_The building exploded into a fireball just as he exited into the alley._

_"Holy shitballs!" An old man yelled off to his left, dodging some debris falling from the sky. Louis turned to see and old man and a young woman ducking into another door. _

_"Hello?" Louis ventured carefully, gripping his pistol. _

_"Uh, hi?" The woman greeted cautiously. "You alone? It's not safe alone." _

_"Yeah, I am." Louis said dejectedly. _

_"I'm Zoey, this is Bill. You can come with us if you want. Unless you're going somewhere in particular."_

_"I honestly have no idea where I'm going." The old man walked out, eyeballed Louis and lit a cigarette. Curiously considering the old man, Louis smirked. "I'm Louis. Those things will kill you, ya know."_

_"Cripes, I'm gonna get this crap on both sides now?"_

* * *

Impatiently she sat on the couch, growing irritated as he fussed over her. He didn't allow her to get up or move around, running around for ice packs and pain medication himself.

"Francis."

"Just a minute."

Growling she crossed her arms then gingerly touched the massive welts on her face. She bet she probably looked like the Stay Puft in Ghostbusters. All the more it made her want to crawl into her mattress where her blanket was balled up haphazardly just as she left it a week earlier. The pain and nausea weren't exactly encouraging her to stay awake either.

"Francis!" She snapped.

"JUST A MINUTE!" He came running with a plastic bag full of snow. Kneeling before her on the floor he gave her a few pills and a glass of water. Tentatively he placed the ice bag to her cheek, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Hissing instinctively as the cold stung her face, she sighed and relaxed, welcoming the numbness. After a minute she reached and placed her hand over his on the pack.

"I got it." She mumbled. Slowly he removed his hand. Leaning back into the couch she closed her eyes. He stood and felt helpless, sure there was something else he should have been doing. Running his hand through his now half inch long hair, he turned to go back to the kitchen. At the sound of his retreating footsteps, Zoey sat up and spoke, her voice strung tightly. "Francis?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't go." She said weakly, her exhaustion getting the best of her.

"I'm just getting a drink."

"Do it later? I really don't want to be alone right now."

"Oh... Ok." He replied slowly looking over his shoulder at the door. How long did Louis plan on being out there? Sitting beside her on the couch, he tensed a bit when she leaned into his side under his arm. She sure wasn't shy anymore. With a sigh, her eyes fluttered shut again, and she spoke heavily.

"What happened after they took you?"

"Well, it's a long story-" He was cut off as the ice pack tumbled off her face into his lap. He picked it up quickly before the cold water could spill into his sensitive region. Her breathing quickly deepened, dropping off to sleep as if she'd been drugged. "But I can tell you later."

She grunted in response, wrapping her arms around his waist. With considerable effort he unlatched and picked her up to deposit the sleeping woman on her mattress, then covered her with a blanket. Curling up into a ball, she clutched at her pillow. Francis laid back on his own mattress, staring at the ceiling as the flames danced, flashing on the wood paneling. He folded his arms behind his head to rest on and sighed. She just had to get him thinking about that first awful night. He had truly believed he was going to die.

* * *

_Warmth and wetness splattered on the left side of his face. A bright light pulled at his eyelids, trying to pry them open. He was startled into consciousness by a friendly poke to his cheek. Eyes cracking open tiredly he found the poke had come from a large wet nose. A friendly black face and brown eyes considered him carefully before licking his cheek again and settling back across his lap. The warmth radiating off the creature was wonderful and he could feel his hands again. The sun was thawing the rest of his body._

_"Good doggie."_

_It was a German Shepherd with the tatters of a leash still attached to its collar as well as a rescue harness with the Red Cross symbol on the side. The animal's winter coat was quite plush which made for a nice blanket when the dog laid across his lap. Francis leaned his head back against the tree trunk and sighed deeply, looking purposely up to the blue sky._

_"Thanks. I'll try to live up to my end of the bargain."_

_The dog alerted to something in the woods and took off. _

_"No, wait, uh, Dog?!" He called with no luck. Grumbling in frustration he leaned his head back again. "Figures."_

_Francis wasted no time and pulled his legs up to retrieve the pick set from his boot. He quickly picked the two locks binding his hands together, and his body to the tree before they numbed up again. The chains fell free and he climbed to his feet, stiff, sore, and cold. Picking up the two chains he began to wrap them up when the crunching of snow sounded behind him. Spinning around he located the dog trotting up to him happily with a small limp animal in his mouth. He came to Francis, sat, and dropped the dead rabbit at his feet. _

_"Shit, you are a good dog!" He laughed in amazement._

_Francis knelt and pet the dog. He removed the tattered leash still connected to his harness and tossed it to the ground. Searching the harness he found an ID tag. Thunder struck him in the chest._

_"No fucking way. Your name is Bill?"_

_Bill panted with a happy smile and lifted up a paw to shake. _

_"Old man just doesn't give up..." He took the paw and shook it awkwardly and dropped it. _

_The dog licked his chops and looked longingly down at the rabbit with a soft whine. Francis grimaced. It was thoughtful and all but he had no interest in eating a raw rabbit. Picking it up gingerly by the foot he handed it back to Bill._

_"Uh, good boy, it's all yours."_

_Bill happily took the rabbit and settled down to chew on it. Disgusted, Francis stood to his feet and looked around. He was nowhere near the compound. In fact, he had no clue where he was. There was nothing but trees in every direction. Thankfully there was only one set of tracks on the ground. He would follow them back to the compound then head south to get back to the cabin and get his spare coat among other more violent accessories. There was going to be some serious shit going down once he was loaded up. _

_Wandering off about 30 yards Francis stopped. In a rather dense patch of trees he stumbled upon roughly 15 frozen corpses leaning against trees. He hadn't been the first offender to be removed. It seemed to be a common end for men of that village. All victims were without warm clothing like him, but none were chained leading Francis to believe they reused the same set of restraints. Just by looking he could tell they were all men, most of them with wedding rings still on their frozen fingers._

_"Bastards." He snarled under his breath. All those innocent people died for no reason after having scraped and clawed their way out of zombie hell in the cities. It was one thing to shoot an infected, but what happened to these people was murder in cold blood. Francis never claimed to be a good man, but when it came down to it there were things that were bad and other things that were very wrong. He had enjoyed dabbling in petty theft, bar fights, and romancing his share of women, but this was very wrong. You don't kill a man for no reason and violate his wife and you definitely don't force yourself on a woman that didn't want it. The heat of fury seeped up out of the pit of his stomach and warmed him. "Fucking cowards."_

_"Bill!" Francis clipped and began following the footprints. Dropping the remains of his rabbit, Bill hopped up and trotted after Francis. "We have work to do."_

* * *

"Damn it Louis, I am not carrying your crippled ass in here too!" Francis bellowed from the door of the cabin.

Bill had finished up on his rabbit and looked up to Louis. "You heard him, Bill."

Louis and Bill walked up to the cabin. The dog scurried in the door but Louis paused once more, looking up to the stars. "If believing you're there means my parents are too... I'll consider it."

Louis closed the door behind him.

Francis was sitting on the love seat overlooking Zoey and the fire when Louis entered the living area. A meal had been prepared for him and it sat on his arm chair. Picking up the bag of food he sat back into the seat with relief as Zoey quietly slept.

"Thanks for the food."

Francis nodded blankly in response.

Zoey was asleep on the middle mattress on the floor, bundled up in the blankets. Even at the distance Louis could make out the darkening marks on her face and sighed. To distract himself he removed the prosthetic apparatus. Happy to be free of it, he placed it on the side of the chair and rested his partial leg on the ottoman. Francis remained silent, watching the fire, occasionally shifting his gaze to Zoey when she rustled. Louis ate his meal quietly.

Bill settled in a tight ball at the bottom of Zoey's mattress, rested his head on her legs and closed his eyes. Francis had decided to keep the harness on him. In an emergency he could be secured on a bike or lifted up a ladder with ease. Also, the Red Cross symbol on the side of the harness looked just like the one on the med kits in all the saferooms and that comforted him.

"How is she?" Louis asked between bites, wondering if Francis was still suspicious of his motives.

"Fine." Francis responded shortly but predictably. A month earlier Louis would have thought him to be standoffish, but that wasn't the case. Answering at all meant he didn't hold a grudge and Louis was relieved.

"And you?"

"Alive." He said, his face tightening. "I have all my parts and no one beat the shit out of me."

Louis paused. Francis actually had his own welts and deep bruises visible on his face and neck. It didn't feel as if pride were a factor in his response, maybe he had his own guilt. No matter what, he didn't want anyone to have to feel that way again.

"From here on out we do _nothing_ unless it is unanimous. Even if we sit somewhere for a week." Louis declared quietly. Francis nodded in agreement. Louis didn't know why, but that night as he stared into the fire he felt compelled to talk. "Would you, uh, like a drink?"

Francis arched an eyebrow and considered Louis carefully, unable to contain his surprise at the offer. "Uh, sure?" He had been getting along with Louis well enough but he had never thought Louis personally wanted to spend time with him beyond the actual process of staying alive. They were just so very different. Francis wasn't adverse to the idea by any means, it was just unexpected.

"Wait a second." Francis said, hopping up. He ran over to a closet and opened it up. "Check it out. There was some old guy living here or something, left this sweet cane behind." He pulled it out and tossed it to Louis. It had a silver handle with embellishments going down the shaft, but the most distinguishing feature was the silver skull connecting the handle to the rest of the cane.

"That is pretty slick. You sure you don't want it?" Louis chuckled, turning it over in his hands.

Francis waved him off, despite his urge to hoard all the cool stuff he found. Louis actually needed it. "Nah, my legs work."

"Well, thanks." Louis noticed the embellishments weren't lining up correctly. With a firm twist the cane cracked and the bottom below the handle slid off revealing a shiny silver blade. "Ooooh, man..."

"Dammit! Why do I always give away the good shit?" Francis groaned. Louis removed the cane facade and held the polished blade up as it glinted in the dancing flames with a fairly recent coat of polish. It was very sharp and study, without a doubt the genuine article.

"Is it wrong for me to say this is going to be a lot of fun?"

"Only if it's wrong to kill vampires."

"You sure have a way with words, it's almost poetic at times." Louis said and sheathed the blade to use it as it was partially intended, to help him move to the small kitchen table.

Francis shrugged and grunted in reply as he dug around the cabinets, pulling out cups and the bottle of whiskey and rum he had brought from the liquor store.

"Yeah, just like that." Louis smirked, lowering himself into the creaking kitchen chair.

"Sorry, no mixers or chasers."

"I'll live." Louis shrugged, cautiously optimistic. He had never really been much for drinking... or had all that much to drink. The kind of people he hung out with in college weren't drinkers... or all that socially adept really. They didn't really seem all that interested in contact outside the internet despite his best efforts. Half the time it felt like they didn't understand half the words that came out of his mouth. Maybe that was the fate of his intellectual peers with their underdeveloped social lobes. Louis shook his head to rid himself of the thought, it wasn't worth remembering.

Francis poured two shots of whiskey. Louis's eyes widened and Francis smirked, trying to hide his amusement.

"It will burn going down. A good burn."

Louis fearlessly picked up the glass swallowing his fear, part of him really wanted to impress Francis and show him he could be one of the rough and tumble guys. Little did he know, after getting out of Pennsylvania, Francis never thought anything less.

"Alright, Louie, to Florida, fishing, and Zoey in a short grass skirt."

"To Florida." Louis confirmed with a laugh, clinking glasses. Francis tossed his shot back then watched as Louis sniffed the glass, closed his eyes and tossed his back as well. On cue he began coughing.

"It's like acid!" He wheezed.

Francis grinned, even with the greatest of efforts, there really was no way to dislike Louis, even when he was being mind-bogglingly smart. "They only get easier." He promised and poured another couple shots. "And we have to conserve, so we will stop at three," he lied for Louis's sake.

"Right. Three." Louis wheezed, eyes watering. He picked up his glass and waited.

"Your turn." Francis nodded. Louis sat thoughtfully.

"To the Bills."

"To the Bills." Francis confirmed clinking his glass against Louis's then downed his shot simultaneously. Shaking his head briefly as the warming liquid slid down his throat and pooled in his stomach, he had a thought. "When we get to that island do you think you can build a still?"

"Sure, as long as we have the materials."

"Groovy. I've always wanted to distill some liquor."

Louis snorted. "_Groovy. _Why do you always say that? Are you a Scooby Doo fan? Marsha Brady maybe?"

"Evil Dead, but Marsha was smokin' hot... actually Daphne was too." Francis thought aloud and Louis's face remained blank. "Oh, it's a movie series where this guy fights zombies with a chainsaw and a shotgun. I got the boomstick, just need a chainsaw."

Louis's eyes lit up. "You said zombies! I knew you were messing with us. So, uh, why _do_ you call them vampires?"

"Cause it's got the old man all flustered. Get's Zoey too. I'm not convinced there are NOT real vampires out there now... or werewolves... frankensteins...moth men...aliens...dragons...ghosts...gremlins..."

Louis poured the last shots and capped the bottle as Francis trailed off. Pushing the glass across the table he caught the other man's attention. Francis nodded and picked up his glass and considered it very carefully. With a thoughtful look at his friend he raised it, his tone dropping the mischievous air that permeated his usual speech. Louis wasn't entirely sure it was the same man he had come to know when he spoke.

"To the lost."

Louis faltered then raised his glass at the heartfelt sentiment. "To the lost." He confirmed softly, gently clinking glasses. Silently they took their shots. Louis could feel the fire shooting through his veins as the alcohol streamed through his body. Slouching in the chair he took a deep breath. Francis was right, it did get easier, and it was awesome.

Francis thumbed his cup quietly, noticing the fire from the living room bouncing around inside the facets of the shot glass. Closing his eyes for a split second he focused on Zoey's steady breathing from across the room and it soothed him. Louis cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to spit out some words. With a frown and a sigh he finally spoke his mind.

"Francis, this is an odd question, but are you a believer?"

Opening his eyes, he focused on his friend and curiously lifted an eyebrow. "In what? I didn't leave much off my list..."

"God."

Francis snorted and the corner of his mouth turned up. Louis felt dumb for even asking, he was clearly not the type. "Sorry, man, random-"

"I'm a _knower_, Louie."

Then again, stereotypes weren't really ever all that accurate. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Look. Four nights ago I was beat senseless, chained to a tree, and _left for dead,_ and the pricks stole my coat on a night that was balls ass cold. Then a trained _rescue dog_ named _Bill_ happened to be running around and saved my ass."

"That's a bit coincidental."

"Of course it is! Big Guy doesn't just materialize things out of thin air for our entertainment. He lines existing things up to bump into each other, like billiards."

"I don't know if that works for me." Louis replied flatly. His deeply analytical brain could not wrap around the simplicity of statement without tripping on itself.

"It's not about whether it works for _you_. Sometimes you're the target, sometimes you're the arrow. You brainiacs are all the same. Your ego is at the center of the universe."

Louis glared at him for a second. "How can you know? All evidence points to the contrary."

"That's why it's called faith, Louie, it's believing without seeing. When you are out of help, resources, and answers... it's there."

"Are you a pastor or something?"

"I've just been around. A lot. Especially while I was on the run from that damned organization..."

So much for clarity. "Organization?!" Louis asked, trying to piece sense into the misdirected answer.

"Hell's Legion. It's not just some biker gang. It's a fucking international crime syndicate. Anyway, during one of my AWOL streaks, I hid out in a Catholic mission for a while. Only good people in my life that never turned me away, aside from you and Zo. Thing was, I had to work and attend mass as well as meetings with the friars in order to stay. I ended up learning things against my will."

"You're kidding right? You reading a book?" He cracked. Francis plus church did not equate. Seeing his friends skepticism, Francis pulled down the front of his undershirt revealing a tattoo over his heart of a winged cross.

"I'm branded like a damn cow. Took a couple of the old penguins downtown with me, let them pick out the design. They thought it would fix all the other ink." He chuckled, realizing he genuinely missed the old nuns.

Louis was astonished. "Why did you leave?"

Francis frowned bitterly and crossed his arms. "Not by choice. The suits found out where I was hiding and threatened to burn the mission down. They swore they would level the place and all inside if I ever returned."

"Why did they have a hard on for you so bad? I mean, no offense, but you're, uh, _you_."

"Well, I'm big, angry, mean and literate. As far as hired muscle goes, that makes me a damn genius. Generally suits don't like getting their hands dirty when there are skulls to crack. Since I did a lot of dirty work, I know a lot of sensitive information. Who's on the hit list, where scores are stashed, where bodies are buried... The police would love to get their hands on someone like me, but thanks to my own rap sheet, I'd still be up shit creek. Run with the organization, you're screwed. Run to the police, you're screwed. See the pattern? As far as I could tell the only option left was to run and hide."

"That's incredible." Louis was enraptured with the story. Francis sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. His shoulders almost visibly dropped as his continued.

"Anyway, after they threatened to burn the mission down I never stopped moving. I couldn't afford good people getting killed over me. So I've been out for the last five years making a general ass of myself."

"Then the infection hit."

"I just happened to be in Penn of all miserable places for personal reasons and wound up with you jokers. Even though I lost my bike, it's really the best thing that's ever happened to me." Francis mused, leaning back in the chair and his mood dampened again. "Part of me is still terrified of what they would do if they found me...to you two."

"That's why you sleep with a loaded gun."

Francis nodded. "I'm not scared of some vampires crashing through the door. It's _them_."

"You really don't think there's chance they'll find you... do you?"

"When the dust settles they will reorganize and be short manpower."

"Wouldn't they assume you're dead? I mean _millions_ of people are dead."

Francis furrowed his brow; concern betrayed his scowl. "Yes, except one of the rats already knows I'm alive."

"You gotta be joking. How?"

"The man in the gay white suit at the bridge. He's a partner, low ranking, but still a partner. He knows me. We've... _interacted_. Hell he may have been following my tracks when the shit hit the fan."

Louis sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, deciding not to push for details. He really wasn't all that worried. "Odds are he's dead by now, Francis. They have no idea where we're even going."

Francis chuckled in amusement. "If Zoey hadn't told her little boyfriend, they wouldn't."

"Damn it, that's right. Let's just hope for dead then."

"Let's."

"You know Francis, I'm not a particularly wise man, but I gotta say, even if he finds his way back to report you, or we do get chased down, I don't think you should keep living your life in the shadows."

Succumbing to his frustration, Francis ran his hand over his head. He didn't know how to make himself any more clear. "Lord, Louis, there is no other life left to be lived. A man like me doesn't have much going for him, apocalypse or not. I don't have fancy degrees, a high paying job, or even a family to run to... or _friends_."

Louis leaned his arms on the table and addressed Francis seriously. "You have _us_ until the bitter end. Zoey and I have a lot invested in you and we aren't about to let you disappear on us. Plus, I told you I'd give you a job." He finished with a laugh.

Francis processed the information with a scowl locking eyes with the oddly serious stare Louis leveled. Truth was, disappearing was no longer an option, in fact, he _needed_ them just as much as they needed him. Bill was right after all, everyone had something they needed and something to give. "I'll think about it."

Louis smiled. "That's a start. Now tell me more about that-"

"_NO!_ " Zoey's pained cry echoed from the living area.

Locking eyes for a nanosecond, they scrambled to the other room. Louis moved as fast as his body allowed, trailing as Francis practically leapt in two steps to her bedside. On arrival Francis dropped to his knees on her mattress as Zoey thrashed and bucked beneath her blanket. It was a live nightmare in and out of her dreams.

"What did you do to Francis!? No! _Don't TOUCH ME_! _FRANCIS_!"

"Zoey!" Francis yelled in an effort to stir her as an errant fist clocked him the face.

"It's ok, girl!" Louis assured her from the edge of the mattress. Shaking his head to clear the momentary throb of his jaw, Francis reached out and snared her wrists, pining her as she fought. Speaking into her hair, he rocked back and forth until she calmed. Louis smirked. That was a far cry from the man back at the liquor store who was afraid to even touch her.

"Shhh... I'm ok... you're ok... Louie's ok... dog Bill is ok... old Bill's still dead, but the rest of us are ok..."

"Don't die..." She mumbled, falling back into peaceful slumber. Francis gently tucked her back in, but remained on his knees, leaning over her.

Louis sighed heavily and flopped into the arm chair. Peering back over his shoulder, Francis shared one more concerned look with Louis. "What the hell did they do to her?"

Frowning Louis shook his head, uncharacteristically scowling. "I don't know." _But it's all my fault._

Francis frowned and looked back to the fire. Her cries proved one thing. "I was too late."_ And it's all my fault._


	9. Up Hill Battle

**Chapter 8: Up Hill Battle**

_Warm lips graced her own as she lurched forward and wrapped her arms around his broad neck. Strong hands, though hesitant, held her firmly but gently...he was alive... he was still alive..._

Startled awake by a vivid yet erratic dream, Zoey lurched up from her mattress, chest heaving and eyes fluttering open in shock. Clutching her heart, she adjusted to the vaguely familiar surroundings and relaxed when her disorientation faded. Flopping back on her mattress with a long exhalation, she rolled to her side and small smile crept across her face. Clenching her jaw, she suppressed a snigger, twisted hopelessly in his blanket on the next mattress with face partially smashed into a pillow, Francis kinda looked peaceful... even innocent-ish. Convinced she couldn't keep her amusement at bay, she turned over to the face Louis and found him in a similar situation on his back. Knowing there was simply no way to continue resting, her full bladder quickly gave her something to do. Content with being awake for the day, she quietly climbed to her feet and made her way to the bathroom.

Muscles crying and aching as she called on them to move, Zoey grimaced at the painful reminders of her horrible night. On her feet, she did not move well and every abused inch of skin radiated pain. Finally hobbling into the restroom she closed the door behind her and stood before the mirror. Most of the swelling had subsided except for her left cheekbone, which remained incredibly tender and puffy. She hoped it wasn't broken and that the new colors of blood setting in her skin were just starting the path to a speedy recovery. Purple, blue, and yellow ran up and down the left side of her face and around her right eye, arching down the bridge of her nose, where crusted blood remained in a dried drip around both her nostrils. With a grumble, she picked up a wash cloth and wet it. Raising the cloth to her face, the oversized sleeves from the black thermal shirt Francis had insisted she wear to bed slid away, showing the ringed bruises around her wrists. Startled, her whole body began to tremble, reminded again of the fear she felt when those same wrists were being crushed in the hands of _that_ man. Paralyzed, she dropped the rag with a splotch back into the sink and squeezed the rim of the sink to steady herself.

She was finally ok to admit it to herself: she had been absolutely terrified. She'd felt small. She'd felt helpless. She'd felt weak while putting up a fight. She'd almost been violated.

It was a different kind of fear than she'd ever imagined existed. To be a victim, nothing more than a _thing_ to be possessed by a vicious predator. She didn't even want to imagine how she would have felt if he'd succeeded.

But he didn't, and that made all the difference. There had been a lot of men in her life. From her doting father, to awkward boyfriends, then to her new family with Bill, Francis, and Louis. They had all cared for and revered her in one way or another in their own unique ways. They'd been her safety net, the only thing that hadn't allowed Howard to dominate her with fear from the very beginning. She'd known what a real man was long before she'd faced that horrible test. Though he'd come closest of any freak to shatter her perceptions of men, and destroy the trust she'd spent a lifetime building in them, she'd just had too many good ones in her life for him to break them down.

Such loyalty, such... love. She'd given, invested, and shared with those worthy of her affections... and it was all received back tenfold when _he_ came crashing through that door. _He_ was a good man all along, and the idiot didn't even know it. Then again, not many people knew or expected it of him either, but she knew.

She _knew._

Slowly the tremors faded away and she released her knuckles from the sink where they had turned white with the force of her grip. Peering back up into the mirror she stared at herself intently, looking past the bruises, deep into her own icy blue eyes. Though she'd never escape the memory of the fear, it would not control her, after all, with Francis and Louis, she had nothing to fear. _Nothing_.

Pulling at the corners of her mouth, a smile grew. "I'm ok." She whispered. "Thanks Dad... thanks Bill... Louis... and-" Pausing, her smile turned shy as nonsensical bits of splintered memories flashed behind her eyes. Her cheeks felt hot, but there was nowhere for any new color to go. "Francis."

Straightening up, she let out a breath then casually picked up the rag and patted her face to remove any remaining caked blood and wash the dirt off her face, like it was just another ordinary day.

Absently patting away the water, her mind wandered back to the dream that had startled her awake twenty minutes earlier. It had been so vivid. She ran through it over and over again, trying to make sense of the garbled images and feelings, but she couldn't. There was so much to the previous night that was just a blur. Bits and pieces of it all came back to her slowly each minute she was awake, like a broken clip show.

Filling the basin with water she removed the thermal shirt and party dress, then cleaned the rest of her beleaguered body when she sat on the closed commode. A quiet knock brought her attention to the door.

"I brought your clothes." Francis said flatly, voice was muffled by the door. She smirked, knowing he'd probably strained his neck trying to see every corner of the tiny cabin all at once trying to find her when he awoke. Of course he couldn't express this concern directly to her, he had to sound inconvenienced or risk losing valuable man points.

"Set them on the counter, but keep your eyes on your face."

The door popped open and a set of clean clothing was dropped on the counter then it quickly shut again. She frowned. He didn't try anything sneaky. Even if she was ok, he was definitely not.

"Francis?"

"Yeah?" He responded quickly, not having moved an inch from the door.

"Nothing can get me in here, you know? As far as I know, there isn't a toilet snake zombie yet."

"Yeah... I know. Jeeze, just bein friendly." His voice came slowly and she heard his retreating footsteps.

With a sigh, she whispered to herself, knowing she'd have to hurry up her cleansing session. "That's the problem."

When she finished dressing entirely in the new winterized clothing set from the hunting supply store and put her hair up, she left the bathroom carrying herself as strongly as her body would allow. She found him at the kitchen table immersed in cleaning his shotgun. Louis remained sleeping, snoring at a steady rate.

Leaning against the table she offered a half smile. "Hey." She called softly. Francis looked up, partially relieved now that she clean and in normal clothing, but his face sported a half hearted scowl. Her track jacket had been lost at the compound and she was now all in black aside from the rainbow of pain on her face. Francis didn't like it one bit. She looked depressing.

His silence, coupled with the slow turning of the hamsters on the wheels behind his eyes made her frown out of frustration. "Come on." She said with mild irritation and motioned for him to follow her. He trailed her obediently as she led him into one of the spare bedrooms and shut the door. She sat on the box spring still on the bed frame, he remained on his feet with crossed arms, eyeing her nervously as she sat on the bed foundation.

"I don't want to wake Louis." She explained, gesturing to the door. Pointing to her face she spoke plainly. "This is nothing. The bruises on my ribs are nothing. I'll be fine in a week. You know I've been through worse."

"And I know you're lying." He said quickly, surprising her. His face and voice possessed a clarity she'd never seen before from him, and he continued. "I was _late_." He said bitterly, reviving the rage that still burned inside at the position he'd found her in... that he found _him _in. He'd seen her pale skin when he'd pulled that bastard off of her. Bill would have never let her get in that situation in the first place, but he had... he'd let her get hurt.

Sighing, she stood. "There is nothing more you could have done."

"He hurt you, there is everything I _should_ have done!" He hissed, face shifting red.

"A few bruises are no big deal, really!" She said with a soft laugh, touching the puffy painful skin. "See?"

Uncrossing his arms, he gently grabbed her shoulders, shocking her into silence, when he spoke. It was a tone so gentle and grief-stricken it seemed to come from someone else. "I know, Zoey, I _know_. He hurt you in _that way_ no woman should ever be hurt_._"

"No." She whispered earnestly, shaking her head, resting her hands on his. Looking up to him, she was still trying to get past her own memories. Finding her voice, she began with the same smile her mother often gave to her when assuring her the world was not ending for whatever reason. "Francis, you were right on time."

"What? I was? Are... are you sure?"

Zoey raised an eyebrow and morosely smirked. The question was hilarious for its surprising innocence. "Trust me, I would _know _if I'd been, uh,_ hurt._"

Pulling his hands back behind his head, he whispered under his breath, "Thank God." Overjoyed, he reached out and crushed her to his chest. Yelping when she found her face smashed into his lapel, she laughed. Her aching body hurt before, now it throbbed.

"Frncs!" Zoey yelled, muffled by his vest, and wrenched her head free to look up at him. "The rest of me still hurts."

"Oh, gosh, sorry, I uh, fuck..." He apologized, releasing her. Moving across the room, he sat on the box spring.

"Really, it's ok, flesh wounds, remember? Just be gentle."

Coming off the high of the moment he sighed, looking up at her for once. "Shit needs to start going a bit smoother, you know?" She nodded and sat beside him.

"You're telling me. Maybe having a Bill again will help."

"Maybe old Bill needs to turn into a vampire and come back, cause I'm damn terrible at his job."

"He'd never let you live it down if he heard you say that." She mused.

"That's fine. Being old, crotchety, and irritating is something I've learned I'm no damn good at, and I don't want to be."

"You're plenty irritating, Francis."

He elbowed her gently. "Princess thinks she's funny."

"I am_ damn_ funny."

Zoey leaned against him, looping her arm through his.

"Francis?"

"Hmm?"

"Please go back to being normal, you're really freaking me out. Crack a dirty joke, say something inappropriate, even be _rude_. This agreeable stuff really doesn't suit you. Makes me nervous."

His mind replayed the conversation with Louis from the previous night. It was just so hard to gather the courage to put effort into those around him when the people he came to care about kept getting ripped out of his hands. His brother... the mission folks... stinky Bill. He couldn't bear the thought of possibly losing Louis or Zoey; and if he grew to care for Zoey any more it would break him forever.

The way she kissed him during the rescue still had his head spinning. Although chances were that she didn't remember it after the effects of the concussion, and may even be too humiliated to discuss it. It may as well have not happened at all and he decided to go about it as if it were the case.

"Hey?" She prodded softly, poking his arm. "You kinda drifted off there." Her smile faded when he returned a blank stare. "Are you ok, Francis?"

He took a long moment to absorb all of the discoloration in her face. Regardless of what he wanted or what Louis suggested, one hard fact remained: Bill left Zoey in his care, and he had failed to keep her safe. With a deflated sigh he finally replied, and his tone wrenched her heart. "I'm still sorry this all happened."

She squeezed his hand and struggled with her own words. "_Francis_...You did everything in your power to stop them... it's not your fault. I wanted to go to the colony and I ignored all the red flags." She firmly held his hand with both of hers against her chest. "_I_ am sorry I didn't listen to _you_."

"Well it was a complicated reason with all manner of fractions. You and the brainiac wouldn't get it."

Zoey chuckled, trying not to lose her train of thought. "And don't worry about me. I won't ever let anyone get the drop on me again. If I am unfortunate enough to where there _is_ a next time, I will have him strung up by his balls by the time you reach me."

Francis looked at her seriously. "There is no such thing as fighting fair when it's for real. Kick his balls, gouge his eyes, kidney punch, sleeper hold, bite, scratch-I don't care _what_ it takes. Just, ah, don't do it to me."

"I love when you talk dirty." She teased.

Francis looked down and let loose one of his rare genuine smiles, Zoey swore the room lit up a little bit. "I don't hate when you, uh, do stuff too." Zoey laughed heartily. Standing, Francis offered his hand. "We have a lot of work to do today, Princess."

When he opened the door for her they found Louis was no longer sleeping.

"Morning guys! What are you up to?" Louis greeted from his arm chair, amused by their guilty expressions.

"Nothing happened." They echoed then exchanged looks.

"I know. Thin walls. But your faces right now are _priceless._"

From Zoey's mattress on the floor Bill thumped his tail and let off a sing song growl. "Aaaaarrrrroooo!"

"Oh shut up, Bill. You smell." Francis argued with the animal. "Think you own the damn place now cause you're fluffy."

"Can it, Louis, before I stick your fake foot in your mouth." Zoey mumbled crashing face first on the couch, which she instantly regretted as the pain flared.

"So harsh." Louis laughed. "Alright, alright."

"Nothing happened. Nothing _has ever_ happened." Zoey repeated into the cushions. Taking that comment as confirmation on whether or not she remembered anything, Francis sat on the mattress and gave Bill a belly rub. The dog happily rolled over.

"I know, I know Zoey. That would be gross, we're like... siblings." Louis assured her, but even with face in the cushion, she frowned. _Gross?_

"What's say we go get some rabbits, old man? I feel like fresh meat for dinner." Francis asked the dog, as if it would suddenly open its mouth and respond.

More surprised by Francis's question than Zoey's lack of response, Louis looked at Francis curiously. "You know that's not actually "old man" Bill, right Francis?"

"Prove me wrong, Louie. Smells like him, hunts like him, I'll know for sure if he lights up a cigarette."

Louis rolled his eyes. "Anyway, that's a good idea. I need more practice on the leg too." Louis began strapping up and Zoey pushed herself to a sitting position.

"Pistol practice I suppose?"

"Uh, no." Francis responded. "You'll blow the dang things in half. Bill catches them, we snap their necks. It would be best if we kept the noise down. Vampires and colonists running around and all."

"I guess that makes sense."

"I think Annie Oakley over here is itching to shoot something." Louis cracked with a self satisfied grin then continued. "We'll try to get three rabbits. Bill can have the guts and we get the rest." Finishing strapping up his prosthetic, Louis jumped up and started rummaging through the weapons in excitement, even pulling out his sword cane.

On the couch Zoey turned her head to look at the dog and Francis. He pet the animal blankly then turned his eyes at her. She smiled weakly back at him, reminded once again at the shards of dream and memory mixing in her mind. Real or not... it felt... exciting. Even if it was just a fantasy.

_Not gross. _She confirmed in her mind.

"Bill!" Louis called and the dog jumped up to follow Louis out the door. Standing, Francis offered his hand to her.

"Ready?"

Taking his hand, she marveled at how easily he hefted her to her feet. Hovering for just a second, she started walking towards the kitchen door. He stayed a step behind her until they reached the door, where she reached out for the handle and paused when the cool steel touched her palm. Peering up at him she smirked mysteriously.

"I think so."

"Huh?" He asked curiously, giving her an odd look.

"You asked if I was ready." She said and opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight. "I think so!" She called over her shoulder, walking out to join Louis and Bill the dog.

Reflexively, he sported his dopey grin and followed. He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so good, but he wasn't about to question it. Running out the open door he boomed at his companions.

"Hey Louis! Tell Zoey I have no idea what she's talking about!"

* * *

The hunting trip was fun and generally uneventful. Bill proved to be quite the skilled hunter and tracked down three rabbits within an hour. Back in the cabin they cleaned the animals, cooking up the entrails for Bill to kill off any bad bacteria. Their portions of the animals were packed in the ice chest with scooped up snow to wait for dinner where they'd roast them over the fire.

As the day faded into evening the three quietly tended to their own business. Louis poured diligently over the maps, re-plotting their course over and over for efficiency. Zoey worked absently on grooming her nails. Digging through the cabin she found an old hair brush and set to work on Bill, getting out all the old matts and snarls in his beautiful plush coat. The dog gleefully absorbed the attention, lightly wagging his tail, and pawing at Zoey whenever she paused to pull the hair out of the brush. When finished, she put his collar and harness back on, but he didn't mind. Knowing the grooming was over, Bill laid before the fire, silky coat shining in the light.

Zoey joined Francis at the table where he had dismantled all their weapons for a cleaning. She picked up a polish rag and took to work beside him. It was almost a meditative practice. Without the cleanings the weapons would misfire or jam which could be deadly in the heat of battle. Bill had taught them all proper weapon care and would make sure they all took the time to clean while they were in the saferooms. Francis in particular had taken to it with unusual exuberance. It seemed to calm and focus him. Louis could take it or leave it. He was happier planning logistics, but the logical process of the cleaning routine was not by any means below him.

Since Bill had passed, Zoey had not picked up a rag, fine to let Francis take over. This was her first time at the table in weeks and as she polished the barrel of her left hand pistol she felt a certain peace come back to her.

"Polish, please."

Francis passed her the bottle silently and returned to his own piece. They spent the next two hours in comfortable silence, the only noise from Bill rolling over on the ground before the crackling fire and from Louis paging through his pages and maps. With the final click of the last rifle piece sliding into place, Francis and Zoey loaded up all the clips and placed the weapons in their temporary home leaning against the fireplace, always within reach.

"I'll get the rabbits." Zoey volunteered, walking back into the kitchen. After a brief internal debate, Francis followed. She didn't need help, but he would take every moment alone with her he could get. There probably wouldn't be that many left with Louis quickly on the mend.

Pulling the meat out of the cooler, she set it on a few plates she had cleaned earlier. Francis leaned on the edge of the table and watched her quietly as she pulled out the roasting sticks and tried skewering the rabbits. The first rabbit went well, but as she was poking through the second, it slipped through and gouged her hand.

"Shit!" She hissed, dropping the rabbit and skewer. Francis pushed off the table and made it to the counter in two strides.

"What?"

Blood streamed down her forearm as she tried to hold pressure on the wound.

"I can't win!" She laughed bitterly.

"Sit down." He ordered, pushing her over to the table into a chair.

"It's not that bad." She complained as he found some clean rags and pulled out a med kit.

"You guys ok in there?" Louis called from the living room.

"Yeah. Just a scratch." Zoey replied with a nervous laugh. Francis sat her at the table and pulled up another chair to sit across from her.

"Same old story, Louie. Zoey's a danger to herself and others." Francis added then turned back to his patient. He pulled Zoey's hands apart to see the damage; there was a significant amount of blood and her hand shook but her face remained dry and expressionless. That little poke was nothing compared to the injuries she had sustained in the past months, even days. "You really got yourself good."

"Yeah. I was caught on something in the rabbit. Pushed it through too hard."

"Ohhhh, It's almost like you have a habit of pulling the trigger without looking." Francis cracked, mopping up the blood on both her hands with a wet rag. Glancing up at her for a moment, his eyes flashed and he grinned. She was not amused.

"Francis. Next time I will shoot you on purpose."

Once clean he firmly held a cloth against the wound and pressed it between his two massive hands. "Good news is if the bleeding slows I won't need to stitch you up."

She knew that. She also knew that she could have held the rag herself. It was her left hand after all. Looking down she tried to suppress a smile. The frequency and magnitude of the concern for others he showed had practically quadrupled since Bill had passed.

As he applied pressure to the wound, checking the blood flow every few seconds by lifting the rag she noticed he his gloves were still off. His hands were warm and clean, but still rough and had fairly distinct tan lines. A quick smirk turned to a frown as the pressure reapplied. It was a small, deep, and painful wound.

"Sorry."

"No, I really got stuck good." She regretted the words before she finished the sentence. Grimacing and clenching his eyes shut, he desperately fought the urge to turn such an easy target into a dirty joke. His chest shook with tremors under the strain. Zoey took in a deep breath, ready to scold him for being a degenerate mess, but when he looked up she impulsively said exactly what he wanted to. "That's what she said!"

Sharing shocked stares, they erupted into uncontrolled laughter. Zoey wiped the errant tear from the corner of her eye as she tried to compose herself again.

"Shit, Zoey, I've ruined you!" Francis proclaimed, shaking his head. Zoey shrugged and replied with a snort.

"Look who's talking, Nurse Francine. You're not exactly the big badass biker man anymore."

Shaking his head, he lifted the rag again, then pressed down a clean section of cloth. "See, but I'm a dude, being nice is character building. You're a girl, having a nasty sailor mouth is still bad. Very bad." He finished, very matter of fact.

"Bullshit double standards!"

"There you go again. So un-chick like. Might as well start stuffin' your pants with a sock and butch up your hair." He sighed and shook his head with mock pity.

"I guess I lost my innocence somewhere around shooting zombie number 1,723..." She thought aloud then silenced when his wicked grin betrayed his previous words. Zoey smiled wide as she caught on to him. "Oh my gosh. You _like_ it, don't you?"

He chuckled as he began to tape her hand up, changing the subject. "I don't think your boyfriend will."

Her amusement stopped cold. "Boyfriend?" She spit sourly, "What the hell are you going on about?"

"_I'll really miss Ellis. Maybe he should have come with us. Did I ever tell you about my friend Ellis?_ Crap I thought you were gonna run after him in a wedding dress._" _Heat spread up her neck and across her cheeks at a memory that had been so easily forgotten from what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Oh my... hell..." Eyes darkening she looked away as he cut the athletic tape and secured the wrappings. She hadn't been before, but she was freshly embarrassed by her behavior. So wrapped up in her own desire to connect with the young man that tripped over himself to gain her favor, she brought out the full on gushing fool. Maybe it had simply been that favor that had pushed her to convince Francis and Louis to risk their lives to lower the bridge Bill had died to put up. Maybe it had been her utter distress at losing Bill and the urge to seek an exit. Even Francis eventually ignored the friendly flirting of that other woman, but Zoey just ate it all up with a big spoon like some love struck child.

Then when it was over they simply jumped in their awful car and drove off. No more flirting, no more empty words. It was all over and they were actually in a worse situation than before. The sail boat wasn't going any damn place and they were vulnerable closer to the ground. Then Louis's health had turned south and the rain started.

Zoey shook with bitter anger at herself as it all came flooding back. She resolved to make sure that different person back then- the one that saw the zombies and deadly battle for life to be nothing more than a fun joke- died at that moment in that kitchen. She was not that girl anymore and would not be taken in as a fool by some shallow compliments, or by the possibility of greener grass on the other side of the fence. The bridge could not happen again. The colony could not happen again. Her two companions had already proved they would walk through hell for her and she needed to do the same if she ever wanted to come close to deserving it.

"Hey." Looking up to the owner of the voice, she glanced back to her hands wringing each other anxiously after his had long dropped away. She hadn't noticed. His trademark scowl appeared in his concern when she returned his gaze again with a troubled frown. "I didn't mean to work you up. Thought we were having some fun."

"If that is what it takes to make me NOT his type, I will be the dirtiest sailor-mouthed, shot throwing, infected shooting, hardest hearted bitch you've ever seen."

Francis's scowl instantly faded into a small smile. "Darlin, just be you. Whatever that is day by day. Just know, you have absolutely no skill for taking shots. We got that one figured out. Cross it off the list. You're no good at it... seriously...you suck."

Zoey's face softened at the much better memory of purple gatorade hangovers as Francis trailed off. "How about hard hearted bitch?"

"Now you're just grasping for straws."

"No I'm not! I can learn to be a bitch!"

"Louis?" Francis called over his shoulder.

"Nope, bitch is genetic," echoed back around the corner.

"Damn it all to shit." Zoey cursed and Francis laughed.

"There's that filthy mouth. Maybe you can at least pull off dirty."

"Thanks." She grinned in relief, leaning back into her chair, gently pressing the dressings on her wound. "You _do_ like dirty..." She mumbled in afterthought.

As he stood from the chair to finish the food prep, he heard her. Leaning over by her ear he whispered back. "I do not. I _love_ it."

It was only the second time she'd heard him use that word and it was one of the few times in her life she swore her heart physically skipped a beat. There was no decoding necessary.

"What's taking the food so long?" Louis called from the living room.

"Zoey won't shut up and keeps stabbing herself." Francis replied as he set to work.

Zoey remained silent in her seat while he finished preparing the food, unable to find appropriate words to respond. Mulling over the turbulent waves of memories and emotions, not to mention the strange dream, she wondered what the hell to do with herself. If she didn't know better she would have thought she was losing control... falling... tripping... and it felt pretty good.

Wincing when she had applied too much pressure to her wound, she looked down at the expertly wrapped bandages and allowed a secret smile.

Dinner had been a quiet affair as they cooked their meals over the fire and ate them. The rabbits were delicious, even without proper seasoning. Everyone was thrilled to have real fresh protein. As they picked at the carcasses they watched the fire. With a stretch, Louis pulled out his maps.

"I feel like a broken record, but let's go over the route." Louis said tiredly, breaking the comfortable silence. Francis and Zoey put down the remains of their rabbits and stood over the ottoman, listening intently as he went over the plan. They would have to leave in the next day to avoid drawing attention to their presence in the area. Going without anymore interaction with the colony was their top priority. They were also running low on food. The rations would only last so much longer.

The goal was to continue on south. Thanks to the tank of gas in the garage, they would be able to take a considerable amount with them and avoid most of the cities. What they had could probably get them to northern Florida without incident. They knew to avoid Atlanta at all costs and would go as far out of the way as necessary.

As the fire died down they took to their separate mattresses to sleep. Zoey laid awake for a while watching the light of the burning embers as they flickered on the ceiling. She wondered what was to come in the next days and weeks. How many more detours would there be? How many more people? Would they actually make it out to the islands? Would they run into the Military, or CEDA?

With their luck, it all seemed inevitable. Something big would happen, like in some terrible B movie, or worse, someone's awful fanfiction.

On the back burner of her mind other things stewed. Why wouldn't that damn dream go away? It gnawed at her all through the evening as they watched the fire. The more she thought about it, the less it seemed like a dream and mixed in with the other shards of memory scrambled by her head injury. The hardest part about it was that the more she thought about it, the more like wishful thinking than actual truth. She shuddered at the thought. Every now and then she would raise her fingers to her lips to see if the sensations in the dreams matched those in real life. Then there was another facet to it. If it was not a dream, then wouldn't someone have mentioned something to her? _That_ someone to be more specific.

One the mattress next to hers Francis stirred and jumped up.

"Where you going?" She asked quietly, sitting up.

"Pee. Garage. Back here."

He exited the cabin and she remained on her mattress, contemplating rising. On the other side of her Louis stirred only momentarily before rolling over and resuming his snoring. Climbing to her feet, she set her resolve and followed him out the door. She had to know for sure or it would torment her for the foreseeable future. Bill stood to follow, but she told him to stay. Sitting obediently on her mattress he watched her exit the door with a curious head tilt.

Across the yard she could see there was just enough space between the rolling doors on the garage for a person to squeeze through. Zipping up her jacket, she slipped through and focused on the light that jumped around on the other side of the garage. She flicked on the forehead light she had liberated from the hunting store.

"Francis?" She asked, frustrated when her voice cracked out of trepidation.

"Yeah." He replied tiredly from the other side as he dug through the trailer.

"Whatcha doing?"

"We need another med kit for your busted ass tomorrow. Mine's empty."

She smiled quietly. "Oh. Thanks."

"What the hell are _you_ doing? Get back inside where it's warm."

"I had a strange dream."

"...and?"

"I..." She trailed off for a second, trying to think of a way to explain it to him. He stood up straight and turned his light to face her. Perhaps there was a better approach. "What exactly happened when you rescued me? I don't remember."

Holding onto the med kit he walked over to her, stopping a few feet shy. He took on a careful and suspicious expression as he gauged her face. Finding nothing revealing, Francis decided to just get it over with. He was just plain too tired to play 20 questions. As usual, he would offer her a path out of the conversation.

"I'm sure you weren't in your right mind..."

"So it did happen..." She whispered softly, face blank as she thought. It wasn't a dream, she wasn't crazy, but she was trying to deal with the torrent of new emotions welling up in her stomach. Francis swallowed hard and looked past her nervously. It would just be his luck that she would have some sort of embarrassed breakdown at that point and spend the next week avoiding even eye contact.

"Well, yeah, I... sorry..."

"And you kissed me back?" She asked tightly, knitting her brow. Her arms crossed over her chest and she shifted her weight from foot to foot. Was it even possible he actually wanted to, or was it just a natural reaction he had?

Her defensive posture made him nervous. Francis had felt less uncomfortable under police interrogation lights handcuffed to a table. She was blank. No indication of what she was feeling was even hinted. Was she mad? Violated? Upset? Happy, no, not happy... Furious? Yeah, furious was more appropriate. His throat seized as he tried to come up with something- _anything-_ to say to make it all go away. He could handle if things went back to the way they used to be, but not if they got worse.

Deep in thought, Zoey picked at the dressing on her hands. With one slip, she tore a piece of the dressing away, and took the scabs with it. Fresh hot blood ran down her hand. "Oh, shit!" She hissed, trying to place pressure back on the freshly opened gouge.

"You gotta be kidding me, Zo." Francis sighed, opening the new med kit. "These things don't grow on trees." Happy to forget the conversation, he moved forward, pulling out fresh bandages. Quickly as he could he saw to the hand, holding pressure steadily on it once the old dressings had been removed. It would take a couple minutes for the new blood to clot again so he could redress it.

Zoey stood silently, watching his large but nimble fingers take to the task. Without a word she glanced up to catch his gaze and they both diverted their attention back down. Soon they stood motionless, her hand clasped between his as they waited for the blood to slow. His warmth seeped into her body through his hands. "You're very warm."

"It's all hot air." He smirked, looking at her mischievously. When she looked away, he raised an eyebrow. Even in the minimal light he could see the pink in her cheeks and it all hit him light a thunderclap. She wasn't just screwing with him. "Look at me." He ordered firmly. Slowly she raised her eyes back to him, face furiously red. He chuckled, squeezing her hands a bit tighter. "You picked a real shitty person to get all hot and bothered over, you know that?"

"Picking had nothing to do with it." She groaned, looking away again. "It's just that-" Still too tired for a back and forth conversation about feelings, he leaned in, sealing the words in her mouth with a gentle kiss. Lingering for a few seconds once he pulled back, he curiously awaited her reaction. Eyes at half mast she wavered for a moment until she swallowed hard and began to speak. "...I _thought_ you died."

"_I_ thought I died."

"Then I started to think."

"Well that was your first mistake."

"You trudge through frozen hell to save me, ignore your own wounds to dress mine, shamelessly flirt with me but don't actually make a move..." Her voice grew stronger and more urgent with each word, then she slipped into a frustrated fury when the truth finally dawned on her in crystal clarity. "Why the hell didn't you just tell me you were crazy about me instead of wasting all this time?!"

"Because it's about six kinds of wrong!" He steamed defensively, crossing his arms. The problem was trying not to show just how damn much he enjoyed fighting with her. She clenched her jaw, glaring up at the scowl looking defiantly back down at her.

"How so?!" Her voice was strong and indignant as her heart pounded within her chest in excitement.

"First of all you are 20 years old and in this grand fuck of a year 2008, I am 36. You're a college kid from a well to do family, I barely got out of high school and I have arrest warrants on my head in more than 3 states. You're smart, funny, and beautiful, and while I'm sexy as hell I'm admittedly not the most intelligent thing you'll ever meet. Starting to see the picture yet or should I pull out the crayons?! You are _above_ me, by _miles_. I can't even fucking see you!"

"If that's how you feel then _why the hell did you just kiss me_?!" She screamed, practically shaking the rafters.

"Because I wanted to!" He roared equally, throwing his hands up. "And I hate rules! And-and I do whatever the hell I want!"

"Good!" She snapped, "You should!"

"I will!"

"Fine!"

"FINE!"

Eyes smoldering as she poked a finger into his chest, voice low and venomous. "Now you listen to me. First of all, screw the rules, because what the hell does any of that mean anymore?! I don't know if you've noticed, but the world is pretty much over so the qualifications you have must be pretty damn impressive since you're still alive! Secondly, after what I just went through, I'm pretty sure I will be the _only_ person that decides who I take an interest in, dammit!" She finished with an emphatic roar, throwing her hands in the air.

"Well then we're in agreement!" He countered with a defiant snort.

"I guess so!"

"Well I didn't see that coming!"

"Me either!" She yelled then silenced, the dawning realization of the stark fact of the matter hitting her like a semi truck. The sound of her own breathing was suddenly very loud in her ears. This person before her... felt the same way she did about him. Holy shit. _HOLY SHIT! Now what!? _ They stood there, staring each other down until Zoey finally looked away nervously, digging up the courage to speak. "I think you're supposed to kiss me again or something?"

As if a bucket of cold water was being dumped down his back, he straightened up at once and his senses returned to him. Chuckling, he realized he'd been frozen in fear like some spineless pansy in front of a woman. That was just plain wrong. With a rush, his usual blustery confidence emerged, slapping a dopey grin on his face.

"Yeah, right. I should do that."

Like the idiot driver that didn't realized the light was green until someone honked, he dropped the med kit and stepped forward. In one smooth motion he picked her up and set her on the workbench, so they were at eye level. Placing his hands on either side of her, he leaned his forehead against hers. Moving away just an inch, he ran his thumb down the ridge of her jawline before he leaned in and placed a long firm kiss on her lips.

Screw awkward. Like Zoey had said, no more wasting time.

It definitely wasn't a dream, whatever bits she saw in her head that morning were shards of a real memory, of a first kiss. She could feel the heat from his body pressing against hers. Warmth of a degree she'd never imagined filled her chest with a glow she bet she could see if she dared open her eyes. The gentle pressure of his mouth as he laid kisses across her cheeks, lips, and down under her jaw, stirred up a frenzy of butterflies in her stomach . Even in her vivid imagination she'd never pictured such a creature such as him being capable of such a... _tender_ action. Cheeks burning, she giggled in pure delight, wrapping her arms around his neck, sliding her fingers through soft hair barely long enough to do just that. Everywhere his hands travelled felt brand new, as if the places he touched on her back and legs had never been explored before.

Pulling back, he looked at her with pure fascination and novelty, as if he'd wake up any second. He'd finally been able to feel with his own hands the gentle cure of her lower back, possibly the most alluringly feminine quality about her, well, at least the one of the aspects of her anatomy he'd gotten more than an eyeful of following her around for months. Watching her run was appreciating art in motion. Her hips, legs, and back all pivoted around that center point just below her waist in a complex set of movements that seemed perfectly fluid when composed as one. The girl could run like he'd never seen before, not as fast as Louis, but more graceful than a ballerina. And that was just the beginning. The curve of her spine, the valley of her waist, the slender muscles of her shoulders and legs... it all felt perfect just like he'd imagined it would. She was a biological wonder in his opinion, whatever that was worth. Stealing one more long kiss, he smiled and stood up straight. Even beat all to hell, she was a knockout.

"Is something wrong?" She asked huskily, gripping his coat.

"You're still banged up pretty bad, princess."

She knew that, her stinging cheeks weren't exactly letting her forget, but her baser motivations were giving her the drive to push the pain aside for a while. "A little."

Brushing his hand across her cheek just like he had the night before, he smirked when her eyes watered in reflex to the pain. "More than a little."

"That doesn't mean you have to stop... you know..." She hinted, zipping down his coat. Knowing what warmth lay inside was too inviting to pass up.

"Yes." He said firmly, leaning over and solidly kissing her forehead. "Yes, it does. Bill said I have 'the self control of a rabid dog'. Zo, I didn't fight with him because he was right."

"Fine." She conceded. Sliding off the bench, she slipped her arms inside his coat again and laid her head against his chest, content to just be close without pretext for the moment. Thinking along the same lines he wrapped his arms firmly around her.

She craned her neck to look at him. "Francis?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for saving me."

"Anytime."

"And Francis?"

"What now? Quit badgering me." He teased.

"If you ever die on me again, I'll kill you."

Startled, he let out a peel of hearty laughter. The vibration of his burst echoed in to her skull and she smiled as he gleefully answered her threat. "How many times do I gotta tell you, Darling? I'm too damn pretty to die!"

Zoey pushed back and clapped her hands on the sides of his nearly furry face. "Well then SHAVE! You're starting to look like a bum! Bums aren't pretty, Francis! Certainly not sexy, handsome, or any sort of dapper!"

"Please!" He chuckled with a wide grin, placing his hands over hers. His tone dropped low and gravelly as he finished, sending a jolt of electricity down her spine "I may be damn pretty, but I'm alive mostly because I'm a badass son of a bitch. In fact, that's about all I'm good at."

"Shave anyway!" She demanded, trying to keep her knees stable when her hands moved over his rough cheeks when he spoke. How she wanted to kiss him again.

"_Maybe_ I want to try going full Grizzly Adams with my beard. You know, Midnight Riders style." He said under his breath, stepping a bit closer.

"No. I like the way you normally do it."

Too easy! Too easy! Damnit Zoey! They both cursed in their heads as Francis compulsively responded.

"Darling, you don't even know _how_ I do it."

Her mouth dried up and she stuttered helplessly. "I... I..."

He smiled and leaned down for one last long kiss. When she started pulling at the holsters on his belt to crush herself against his rather underutilized personal region, he knew the night had to end right then and there. It took every ounce of will power and control he had to pull her hands off his belt, spin her around and push her towards the exit with a friendly slap on the ass. "Now get your ass back inside. It's shit cold out here."

Dazed, she stumbled on and mumbled incoherently. "I'm not tired." She lied breathlessly.

"Go." He ordered.

Desperately trying to hide his physical reaction to her he leaned back against the workbench and removed his coat, hoping the chilled air would calm his nerves and cool the heated response his body had to her. As she disappeared through the rolling doors, he shook his head in complete disbelief.

"Things just got... _interesting_, Bill." He chuckled, wondering just how hard the old man would have beat his ass into the ground if he was still alive.

* * *

The farther they travelled south, winter weather thawed with each mile. By the time they reached Georgia it was in the lower 60's and the drive was actually fairly pleasant. Infected were few and far in between, but of interesting note, those that they did see were emaciated and their skin was becoming stiff and leathery. Some looked like walking mummies. The trio had agreed to put those they came across out of their misery as one last act of compassion, just to be sure that if they could feel pain, it would end. Nothing should have to live that way, even if the human parts were long gone.

Towns were desolate husks of civilization. Louis began to wonder if some of the ancient deserted and extinct cities around the world had succumbed to similar fate, if not the same virus. It could have even been possible that the affliction was brought back to life by some unknowing archeologist digging through tombs and graves of the dead. It brought a whole different perspective onto the fabled mummy's curse in Egypt. Who knew, maybe two thousand years in the future the remains of US cities would be uncovered and the zombie epidemic would be unleashed on an entire new generation.

Whatever the case surrounding the source of the virus, one thing was certain, CEDA had no discernable trail to follow. With every passing mile, signs of the mysterious organization faded away. Louis knew they didn't have time to really take an in depth look around for clues to the mystery, after all, their main focus was _not dying_. The mystery of the virus and CEDA would probably never be solved, but the part of him that loved Sherlock Holmes as a child kept and open eye, comparing the evidence around him to the last bits he was able to access on the laptop before the battery finally ran dead.

Coming to a stretch of highway where miles of cars had piled up into an above ground tomb of rot and death, they all stopped their bikes. It wasn't particularly different from any of the other similar sites they had encountered in the past, but they had a routine that had kept them generally safe. Blow something up and see what comes running. They just didn't have the patience to fall victim to some horrible cliche where they would get trapped in the middle of the parking lot as the horde rose up out of still vehicles.

Louis pulled out a pipe bomb and armed it. Lighting and chucking as far as he could into the mess of cars all three waited patiently for the explosion. After ten minutes, nothing happened. All the bodies on the ground were _dead_-dead. One fantastic opportunity those types of situations presented was the free shopping. Aside from the duty of refilling their vehicle tank as well as their spares, many treasures could be gleaned from the lot.

Zoey was pleased to note that the usual stench of decaying flesh was greatly reduced thanks to the weather and outdoor elements. Most of the bodies were dehydrated and were ceasing to look like people, which made taking their last earthly possessions a bit less demoralizing, for her anyway. It never bothered Francis for even a second and she was reminded of that fact yet again when his voiced echoed over the cars behind her just as she was leaning in a window to explore.

"SWEET!"

"What?" She yelled over her shoulder as she tried to free a backpack from a stiff, mummified corpse.

"I found a fricken' ninja sword!"

"I told you, Francis, Katanas are Samurai swords! Hopefully it's not a cheap knock off like your last one." She corrected with a grunt, making one last final pull to free the bag. Stumbling back as the arm literally cracked off the body, she yelped as she lost her balance and tripped backward. Like he always seemed to be lately, Francis magically materialized behind to catch her and the metallic clash of the sword sounded as it was tossed to the ground.

"Woah, Hercules." He chuckled warmly, inciting a compulsive grin to spread across Zoey's face.

"Where's Louis?" She whispered, looking around.

"Behind the Winnebago." He replied quietly, not passing the opportunity to pull her tightly against him for a brief moment, laying a quick kiss on her neck. Zoey had forgotten her prize from the car, until Louis's voice jerked them back to reality.

"Hey, check this out."

Breaking apart as if nothing happened, Zoey reclaimed her bag, taking a few deep breaths before following Francis with his new sword around the Winnebago that laid prone on its side. Beyond the behemoth was nothing but open highway. It appeared that the CEDA van and the Winnebago crashed and backed up traffic. "What kind of moron would try to drive a Winnebago through a mess like this? I hate motorhomes." Francis informed everyone with usual irritation.

Louis was sitting in an armored CEDA van with a thick binder on his lap. They hadn't seen any vans in over a week. "This one never made it to its destination."

"Where was it going?" Zoey asked, looking around inside the empty small-bus sized van.

"Atlanta. We were going to avoid it anyway, but now we are going to stay _very_ far away."

"What kind of idiot would go _in _to a large zombie food source? Took us a few weeks just to get out." She snorted in disbelief.

"By the looks of it, all these people. Follow this road for another 200 miles and you'll connect with the interstate and be only a short time from downtown Atlanta." Francis thought aloud. He'd been there more than a few times. He'll he knew most of the major highways in the US. Louis remained engrossed in the book for another second before raising his eyebrow.

"This manual is dated about a week before we met. Their instructions were to seek out carriers and bring them back. That's why they were headed to Atlanta."

Zoey frowned. "What does that mean?"

"They had no clue how to stop this thing. Sounds like a last ditch effort to find the naturally immune." Louis answered, turning the page and shaking his head.

Francis had already lost interest in the conversation and was playing with the sword. Zoey eyed the book then looked back to the other man making an ass of himself. "If you want we can fill your bike and can while you read."

"If you don't mind, I'd appreciate it."

She smiled brightly and picked up the empty green gas can. "No problem, we'll give you some time. Francis!"

"Cripes woman, quit volunteering me for shit! Why doesn't he have to go!?" He whined as he followed her down the road.

"Because he can read."

"Hey! I can read!"

As they wandered off, Bill the dog trotted after them, but he needed to stay and guard Louis while he was distracted by the reading. Francis turned back and pointed to Louis. "Bill, stay."

The dog whined in complaint, but laid down obediently. There were a lot of strange smells out there and he wanted to get a nose full of all of them. Louis leaned over and pet the dog, which wagged its tail in response. Perhaps staying wouldn't be so bad. Free pets made any situation bearable. "Good boy, Bill."

Francis and Zoey wandered down the road, checking the contents of cars, and adeptly ignoring the field of corpses amongst the cars. Zoey took a long look back toward the CEDA van to make sure they were out of ear shot.

"Francis, there's something I wanna know."

Halfway in the broken window of a car, Francis pulled out with another couple back packs to explore. He sat on the hood of the vehicle and rooted through them. "Shoot."

Zoey jumped up on the hood and opened the bag she'd been carrying. Dumping the contents on the hood, she frowned. "Baseball cards, really? That's the first thing this guy thought about when zombies started eating his neighbors?"

"Was that your question?" Francis responded blankly as the first pack he emptied contained nothing but DVDs. He snorted and laughed out loud when he saw which kind. "Sweet! Pornos... wait, dammit these are sick ones!"

"Seriously?" She asked, leaning over. "Wow, I guess baseball card guy isn't so weird after all. What was the first thing you grabbed when the infected knocked on your door?"

"Nothing. Just got the hell out of there."

"Yeah. Same here."

Francis opened the second bag cautiously, taking one long look at the mummified corpse still in the driver's seat. Peering into the bag his eyes widened, then without ceremony he flung it back into the car. "Do yourself a favor and don't touch those bags. That was one creepy bastard."

"What was in the other bag?"

"If one bag was full of sick pornos, what do you think was in the other one?"

"Seriously?"

Francis nodded with a grim expression on his face. "Well, I don't think anyone would want to participate with him!"

"Oh, gah, sick! I'm actually glad he's dead!" Zoey scrambled off the hood of the car, glaring at the dead driver.

She caught up to walk with Francis and they continued on. He still scowled and it was endearing in a way. "That sick fuck actually managed to kill my mood." Passing by another car, he rapped his fist on the side under the gas cap then pulled out the siphon tube. "And now I have to suck gas. This day just gets better and better."

"I'll do this one." She volunteered, taking the tube and Louis's canister from him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I've seen you do it a hundred times."

"Ok?"

She stuck the tube down into the gas tank until it hit bottom, kneeled and started inhaling in the tube. Her face turned red with effort as the flow slowly made its way down the tube. She must have not paid too much attention when he did it because as the flow came down the tube she didn't see it creep up to her mouth nor did she pull it away. Taking in a mouthful she coughed and spit the gasoline out, desperately trying to get it out of her mouth. Francis grabbed the tube, stuffed it in the gas can.

"FUCK! It burns!" She cried and fell forward onto all fours.

"I thought you said you paid attention! You're not supposed to get any in your mouth!" He pulled out his water canteen and handed it to her. "Swish and spit a few times! Do not swallow!"

She followed his directions, sitting back on her butt as he kneeled over her. Her eyes watered as she spit. "Concern... doesn't suit you." She wheezed when she ran out of water.

"Stupid doesn't suit you!" He snapped then after a long moment exhaled the breath he had been holding since she first coughed. He scooted back to lean against the car, pulled a pack of gum out of a pocket and handed her a piece.

"Thanks."

"I think I'll take care of the rest of the gas."

"I had to at least try." The spearmint tasted wonderful, so much better than the burning. Francis chuckled and she looked up at him. "What?"

"Holy shit, you're Daphne."

"Huh?"

"Daphne from Scooby Doo. She's always getting captured, falling into traps, getting hurt... yeah, you're Daphne."

"What does that make you, Scooby?"

"I'm Fred."

"More like the Creeper."

"No, Fred. I get to split off with the hot chick. Devilishly handsome and broad shoulders is a coincidence."

Zoey laughed darkly. "Well, sometimes you are a dumb blonde."

"See, no argument there." Francis concluded.

"Shut up or I'll make you wear an orange ascot."

They both fell silent in thought until Zoey snorted. "You realize what this makes Louis, right?"

Francis looked to her and laughed. In unison they cried, "Velma!"

When their mirth faded, Francis craned his neck to look at her again. "So what was your question?"

Zoey considered him brightly. "Your tattoos. I want to know about them."

Francis lifted his arms out in front of him. "They're black and say stuff."

"Come on!" She goaded and grabbed his arm. "For starters, this one: it says Nevada. Are you from Nevada? Is that your birthday?"

No woman had ever been interested in a single line of ink on his arms or really anything about him. Then again his usual brand were drunk one nighters, which when he thought about it was kinda gross. It was a miracle he had never caught anything. Zoey continued to be the most singular woman he had ever known and the strange thing was, he was actually ok with answering her questions. He didn't feel the need to hide it behind the brick wall.

"Yes and yes."

"1972? You're really old."

Francis glared sideways at her. "You're walking on thin ice, darling. How about you suck down some more gas?"

Zoey laughed and slugged him lightly in the arm. "Tell me about it. What city?"

"Well, have you ever been to Nevada?"

Zoey sheepishly played with her zipper on her coat. "No, actually, before all of this, I'd never been anywhere but Pennsylvania and the immediate surrounding states. I was so adventurous I didn't even leave the state for College." She joked.

Francis was surprised he actually had something to tell her about. "I have been to every state in the lower 48, Alaska, and most of Canada on bike, including all the National Parks. If we ever get out of this, I will take you. It's something everyone should do before they die."

"Ok." She grinned, "Now, about your hometown?"

Leaning back against the car, he looked off into the distance and remembered happier times. "Elko, Nevada. Small mining town where kids either ended up working the mine or joining the military."

"Well, you're clearly not in the military, and you're not in a mine. What happened?"

"Dad split on Mom, we got shipped out to Penn to live with grandma and grandpa when she couldn't make enough money to make ends meet. In the span of two years both our grandparents died, and mom went missing. Ended up in the Penn foster system. Turns out I'm a problem case, can you imagine?" He joked awkwardly. "Anyway, graduated High School and hit the road and however many years later, here I am."

"I think you may have skipped a part."

"What part?"

"Where you drove around the country in a bike gang."

"Gang would have been an improvement. I was basically hired muscle, without the hired part. Either I did what they said or I was ducking from bullets."

"The mob?"

"Yes, the Organization."

"I never connected the mob with men on bikes."

"They don't want you to, but the biggest groups out there have their hands in the pockets down to the lowest levels. We were a rolling platoon of soldiers, unchecked by law, just waiting for orders."

"Sounds miserable."

"It was, which is why I took off at every chance, but I was regularly hunted."

"Zombies were a good thing for you then."

Francis motioned to Zoey and the expanse of destruction before them. "This right here, is the best it's ever been for me.".

"That's just sad. Have you ever gone back to Elko?"

Francis's eyes darkened. "It was my first stop after graduation. I wanted to know what happened to Mom, but it was like she just disappeared off the face of the earth. I'm sure my old man had something to do with it and I bet he would have gotten all three of us had mom not shipped us out."

"I'm so sorry."

"He didn't leave by choice. Beat the living hell out of me more than I care to remember." Heaving a sigh, he shrugged and grumbled sarcastically, "story of my life, Zo."

Zoey thought for a second to change the subject and brightened. "What's the best National Park?"

"Yosemite, no contest."

"Why?"

Francis looked off, distant again as he thought. "Hard to explain, you'll see when I take you there."

"Hey!" Louis called from the overturned motor home, voice echoing over the cars. Zoey and Francis stood up. "We should get going soon, gonna be dark before long!"

"Ok!" Zoey yelled back. "One more canister."

* * *

They drove on side roads over the next day and exited Georgia into northern Florida without incident. In a fairly rural area they found a very small town with a just a street of deserted buildings. Interestingly enough there was no structure damage on any of the buildings nor remains littering the street. It was just empty.

"This is odd." Louis said curiously, stepping off his bike. "This is the first evacuated town I've seen for days. No city in Georgia was successfully evacuated."

"Well, it makes finding gas and food much easier, so I'm not going to complain." Francis concluded, stepping off his own ride while pulling out his shotgun. Zoey followed suit, opting for her pistols instead of the rifle. Louis lead the way to the door of the convenience store. He pulled out Francis's lock pick set, from his pocket, since he had not yet returned it. Reaching for the door handle he was disappointed when he found it unlocked. He had come to discover that picking locks was guilty fun.

When the door swung open, Louis's jaw nearly hit the floor. "You weren't kidding, man! Look here!" Francis and Zoey filed in as well and were rightly in awe of the sight before them. Not a single bag of chips, bottle of soda, or box of crackers appeared to have been disturbed since the occupants took off. Bill stalked around the aisles with his nose to the ground, thoroughly investigating the building. Louis was relieved the dog's hair never rose in alert.

"That's a lot of food." Zoey said with a whistle. Her stomach growled at the sight of Oreos and Cheese-Its boxes poking out over the top of the aisle.

"This is the third most beautiful thing I've seen in my life!" Francis said with an appreciative nod, crossing his arms. Looking around at the store, his exhaustion practically tackled him. They had been down to the bare minimum rations for the last two days. The general state of their bodies was lacking. With the months of bad and sparse nutrition all of them had dropped a considerable amount of weight and it showed. Clothing was loose and each one of them had to tighten their belts more than a couple notches. In their condition they needed a couple days of rest and high calories before they hit the road again and they couldn't have asked for a better place for an interlude from the action.

Zoey ran through the aisles, picking up box after box of treats. "AWESOME! EASY MAC! I lived on this crap in school! Did I just drool?" She wiped her mouth, leveling side eye glare at her companions. "What are you waiting for!? Don't make me look like a pig!"

Louis and Francis both smiled, looked at each other, then bounded through the aisles, collecting as many food and snack items as they could carry. Picking up a Twix, Francis unwrapped it and shoved one of the stale candy bars in his mouth and kept moving.

After a good amount of scavenging the trio dropped their loot on the floor of the manager's office in the back of the store, sure to stay away from windows and other vulnerable spots. They opened jars and cans of non perishables, even some items that were only a short ways off their expiration dates.

"I vote we stay here for a couple of days and recharge." Louis blurted through a mouth full of nachos. He laid a pile of chips on the floor for the dog who munched away happily on them as well as some unwrapped jerky from Francis.

"Second." Zoey agreed through a mouth full of snack crackers. Francis eyed the crackers and decided he must have some.

"Yeah, yeah. Now, gimmie!" Francis reached for Zoey's box of crackers and she whipped his hand with a Slim Jim. "Hey!"

"Get yer own, _buddy_!" She scolded playfully, whipping his thigh again.

"Ouch, you Witch!"

"No, no, no." She argued while sticking a bunch of Slim Jims between her fingers. "_This_ is a witch!" She cried, and started to pummel him with the foot long jerky claws.

"Shit, you are _batshit_ crazy!" Francis yelled, scrambling to get away. She deftly followed, jerky whips flying. They ran through the aisles like a couple of kids, yelling and laughing as he chucked various food boxes and packages at her as he fled. "Louie, don't just sit there! _Help me_!"

Louis stood and crossed his arms, amused disbelief on his face as he shook his head. "Francis, I choose to remain neutral and I'm afraid I have no choice but to revoke your man card. She is all of a half starved 5'4" 110 pounds."

"Yeah Francis! I'm 25 pounds below my fighting weight!" Zoey giggled, chasing him around another corner, just missing him as she swiped. "How is it you've gotten faster!? You're down at least 40 pounds since we met!" Out of breath, Zoey stopped and leaned against a shelf, dropping her Slim Jim whips in surrender.

"Huh?" Francis slid to a stop before a glass refrigerator door, catching his full body reflection. That couldn't be him, it was a mirror trick, right? Genuinely surprised he ran into the restroom to look in the real mirror. He just hadn't been paying attention in the last couple months. The change had been so gradual that he'd just written off an differences he saw in the mirror, which usually was just from the chest up.

"Are you ok?" Louis asked from the open door. Zoey appeared beside him, concerned and curious.

"You didn't notice?" She asked quietly. Francis took off his vest and threw it over the closed commode, turning back to the mirror he nearly gasped and stepped back. It was harder to notice with the vest on, but he barely recognized the body before him as he backed away from the mirror. His arms had lost inches of thickness and his chest and legs had lost quiet a large amount of mass as well.

"No! I saw you two getting skinnier, I thought I was eating enough!"

"You never eat more than we do, and you're naturally a much bigger guy, so technically you've been eating less than us." Louis explained, frowning at how baggy the undershirt actually was on his formerly imposing frame. "When your body runs out of food and fat to burn, it starts breaking down your muscles."

Morbidly curious, Francis lifted up his shirt. "Holy shit, are those RIBS?! I haven't been able to see ribs since I was 16 years old!"

Zoey stepped forward, reaching out her hand for a second, wanting to make sure what she was seeing was real. Pulling it back, she grimaced feeling guilty. "You need to eat more. I should have been eating less."

Francis dropped his shirt and spun around, angry. "NO. We rationed food to be _fair_. No one gets more food than anyone else!"

Guilt still wretched her face. "But you're _wasting away_ Francis, I'm just a little thin."

Francis ran a hand through his hair, then stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I'm still well over 200 pounds, Zoey. I am _not_ dying, there is just... less of me."

"But..."

"Louie, explain to her!"

Louis cleared his throat and shifted his weight off his bad leg. "Sorry, Francis, it is just very sobering to see you like that, for both of us. You looked like a professional wrestler when we met you. You were, what, 250? You're also taller than me by a few inches and I'm 6'2"."

"Oh, Lord, not you too."

"We should just stop talking about it. Drinks?" Louis asked. The other two nodded. He turned to walk away and stumbled. Gripping his very sore prosthetic joint, he leaned heavily on the door handle. Francis rushed up and threw Louis's arm around his shoulder. Zoey went to the other side, attempting to do the same. "Guys, guys, I'm fine. Just some cramping." He tried to laugh it off, but Francis and Zoey were not amused.

"We really are in _bad_ shape." Zoey finally said, putting into words what they were all thinking. Louis looked at her healing bruises then over to how easily his arm wrapped around Francis's shoulders. He felt a small seed of panic settle into his stomach as they helped him over to the office chair Zoey ran and wheeled out. Louis stared at it for a second when Francis lost his patience and practically shoved him down.

"Oh for fuck's sake, sit down." Francis snapped and before Louis's back even hit the back of the seat, he reached over and flicked the clips on the prosthetic and it clunked to the ground.

"Francis, what the hell?" He was more surprised by the fact he had paid well enough attention to know how to remove it than how fast he could disable him. Zoey leaned against the wall then slid down to her butt and picked up her box of crackers and started eating again... purposefully.

"We have a problem." Zoey said softly, running her hand over her own sunken stomach. "We were healthy with four people and we barely made it out of the city. How the hell are we going to back into an even larger city with three half starved people, one crippled?"

Francis opened his mouth to roar back, but shut it quickly and composed himself. Trying again, he addressed both his companions at once. "By not thinking about it tonight. I don't know about you two, but I don't have any _miracles_ hidden in my back pocket." Neither Zoey or Louis argued the point.

"So then what do we do?" Louis asked dejectedly.

"I don't know about you two, but I'm freakin starving."


	10. Monkey Wrench

Note: Sorry for the long time between updates. About half of this chapter was re-written because it was just too slow. I may take longer with the next couple of updates as well. Just want to make sure I get everything in that I want, because I honestly don't know if I will be writing any more L4D fics after this is wrapped up. Also, a couple new images up at the DA account. Haven't had time to do much more than that. Just a warning, there are spoilers there.

* * *

**Ch 9: Monkey Wrench**

The days passed by slowly. Achingly so at points. Louis swore he could see the yellowing old latex paint cracking and peeling on the store walls when looking up from the old magazines he and Zoey picked off the racks. They sat against the wall, surrounded by piles of the outdated media, while Zoey chewed absently on some gum as she read, giggling once in a while at her own morbid thoughts.

"Now that these twits are all zombie food, I bet it won't be so easy to photoshop them into something pretty."

Louis snorted. "I'm not sure they weren't zombies to begin with. I mean, seriously, have you seen Lindsey Lohan?"

"Good point." Zoey flipped a page, rolling her eyes at yet another beach spread. "How many of them do you think are dead? I mean, this garbage could be a long obituary."

"It's not my place to comment on the deceased, but if we're guessing based on intelligence... all of them."

Zoey laughed, looking over to Louis's reading. "I wonder who was the first to go."

"It probably had Kardashian in the name."

Francis was amused by their chatter but really had no interest in the rags, aside from the cute girls on the covers of the car issues. It wasn't that he didn't like reading, or didn't know how, as Louis was convinced, he just didn't want a reminder of the things they were all missing out on. Movies, restaurants, entertainment, shopping... not that he shopped... or went to all that many movies, but he had always wanted to go to a high priced steakhouse and order the most expensive item on the menu. Even if he'd had the money, they probably wouldn't have let him in the door, no sleeves and all. In the old days money that he was able to scrounge and squirrel away was saved for the bare necessities, and an occasional burrito.

On the opposite side of the store, leaning lazily against the wall he shuffled idly through a fresh deck of cards. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as his friends went on like chipmunks about the dead celebrities. He tried to imagine both of them as they were before it all hit the fan. It wasn't hard to see Louis in his sharp suit, freshly shaven crown, and polished shoes, toting a fancy leather briefcase looking every bit like the congenial but stern professional. That man would have never spent days sitting on the floor of a dirty convenience store reading page after page of trash while having lively discussions about said garbage with a snarky college girl.

And Zoey... oh Zoey. He could fill books with the amount of thinking he did about her.

He bet she didn't look much different than she did at that moment, maybe a few more pounds to punch out her curves, and less dirt on her face, but she was probably just as sarcastic, unconcerned, and aloof. If it wasn't for her bad habit of being terminally lazy, she would have had the potential to do absolutely anything she dreamed of in life. She would have also had her choice of the cream of the crop, who knew, maybe some handsome lawyer or doctor, or hell, some politician. She was smart, funny... gorgeous beyond reason, the list of her qualities was truly endless. Instead of some life on easy street she was sitting on the floor, paging through fading periodicals, smiling across the room on occasion at what she'd ended up settling for... for the time being anyway. Despite her speech ripe with conviction last week gnawing anxiety continued to eat away at his gut. He knew wasn't good enough for her; he'd never be good enough for her. It was a fact as much as the sun rising and setting in a 24 hour period.

Selfish, coarse, rude, angry, opportunistic... he could think of many words to describe himself, none of them were flattering. He was simply what he was, certainly not appropriate for her in anyway. His biggest obstacle in setting her straight was that she adored him in her action, imitation, and as she recently proved, with her words. It felt too good to pass up or send away. He'd never been adored by anything in his life but a dog... and it was sitting over there, so it was a whole new feeling on both fronts. Creatures... good dogs and great women combined weren't supposed to care for him. He was a scarred up piece of trash discarded by society many years before and he had nothing substantial to offer but protection and a good looking face (by his own standards).

Troublingly, the more time that passed the deeper he found himself connecting with her. He had more in common with her than any other person he'd ever known. She'd shared many horrible, terrible truths about her life during their time in the liquor store, and experienced many more during their exhausting journey. Both were products of broken homes without a family member left in the world, both had been forced into a life of violence at a vulnerable age, and both had seen a good life slip right through their fingers. On top of that she had her own special hell to deal with: the fate of her parents, survivor's guilt, traumatic stress, and a near miss assault. It was a very heavy load. He'd seen grown thugs crack under less. A life like that produced a very specific kind of futile and bitter energy and it was amazing how long all that negative fuel could feed a person. Unfortunately as he knew personally it was not a sustainable path. Some manage to hold it off for a while, but sooner or later it ate everyone alive. Eventually everything just grew cold and numb, and it took something _extraordinary_ to pull a person out of it.

Not everyone was as lucky as he had been when he'd stumbled into Zoey's group and good graces. Burned into his memory was the sight of her on that first day offering her tiny hand out to him with a friendly smile. A gesture so simple, so honest, it nearly knocked him off his feet. While the fear radiating off of her had been palpable, she swallowed it to put herself out there. He'd shaken men's hands in deals before, even held onto women's hands in a romantic way, but he'd never had one held out to him in an offer of simple friendship, in hope of trust, but expecting nothing in return.

Francis scowled and focused back on the deck in his hands, fending off a wave of discomfort that had been nagging him off and on since they left the cabin. The very simple truth was that she had scooped him up out of his own perdition while on the precipice of falling into her own. Could he do the same for her when the fire started to flicker and the skies grew dark? When they finally stepped out of danger, how would she cope with her demons when the flurry of the survival instinct dissolved into the everyday doldrums?

When Bill was alive, it wasn't an issue. That man had stared down the devil, so scaring away a few of her demons was nothing, but Bill wasn't there anymore and he certainly wouldn't be leading any PTSD therapy sessions. All those things she was able to dump on the old man, were then fixed on Francis near exclusively.

Grimacing for a split second, Francis leaned forward and started laying out a solitaire board with the deck. Zoey peered up curiously and smiled warmly as the slap of the cards caught her attention. Sensing eyes on him, he looked over to her and reflexively returned the gesture. If she could smile like that, then maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Maybe he was just a big chicken, scared of his own shadow... of her shadow. It was something for the future, a bridge to cross when they came upon it. _If you fall apart, I'll fix you. If it kills me I will fix you. _

Sighing lightly, he reached over to a six pack of warm cola and popped the cap off a bottle. Considering the beverage for a second he took a long pull, allowing himself to revel in the new memory of her warm smile. Sometimes you just had to focus on the little things to get by. For the moment, she was his, and that included every insult, accidental gunshot wound, and horror story. They were both damaged goods and that was ok.

_I love every twisted part of you._

_... _

_WAIT! WHAT?_

He faltered hard, simultaneously inhaling soda into his lungs and up into his sinuses. In a second he choked, snorted, then sprayed the soda out of his mouth. Slamming the bottle to the ground he coughed and wheezed, pounding on his own chest as he tried to eject the liquid from his lungs and the burning carbonation from his sinuses.

Louis and Zoey dropped their magazines and scrambled over to him.

"What the hell did you do!" Zoey demanded, kneeling and pounding on his back.

"You're supposed to drink it, not breathe it." Louis scolded, handing him a stack of napkins.

"Are you alright?" Zoey laughed, resting her hand on his shoulder and teased, "Do you need me to burp you?"

Francis paused, squaring an indignant stare back at her before resuming coughing. The room suddenly felt very small.

"Shit!" Francis breathed, launching himself to his feet and out the door, rambling between heaves. "Quit badgering me! I didn't say anything!"

Baffled, Louis and Zoey shared a confused stare.

"The hell was that about?" Louis wondered.

"I haven't the faintest idea."

* * *

"He's still out there, huh?" Louis asked quietly.

"Yeah." She replied flatly, crossing her arms across her chest. _Still avoiding me too._

"He'll come in at some point I guess." Louis thought aloud, noticing the sun shifting into position to begin dropping on the horizon. Zoey'd been sitting at the window all day grumbling at the window and he didn't want to say anything and end up on the receiving end of her irritation. It wasn't like Francis couldn't take care of himself, but Zoey wasn't one for being ignored. Ever. She had a special skill for stirring up shit and misery when someone pissed her off.

"Since the great soda caper, he's spent every single hour of daylight of the last three days out there by himself." She growled. "Then when I go out to see what he's up to, he just stares at me like I have a three heads." Why he was avoiding her like the plague when he choked on that drink all by himself? Was it the teasing? As if she'd actually burp him! There was no way he was that much of a sensitive sissy.

"Maybe he doesn't like to be seen working out." Louis suggested.

"That's stupid. He's a natural born show off."

"Well, we did freak him out pretty bad about being skinny."

"Still stupid."

"Ball's in your court, doc, it's my only theory. He just gets cranky and yells when I go check on him." Louis said in surrender.

Zoey frowned deeply. "At least he says real words to you. Won't even look at me."

"I don't know, Zoey. I just don't know." Louis sighed and returned to the counter and his maps. Contemplating Francis throwing a tantrum was just not worth the brain power it took to consider. It wasn't exactly an unusual occurrence.

Focusing on the path out of town was a better use of his time. After hours upon hours of reading and scheming there was honestly nothing new to learn about where they were going or what roads they would take, but being sure comforted him just in case their luck held true and they somehow lost the maps. He had at least five back up routes picked and memorized in the event they ran into something... big. 'Big things' were why it had taken so long to cross the relatively manageable distance between Pennsylvania and northern Florida in the first place. He'd plotted an extra scenic route as far as humanly possible from population and clogged interstates, refusing to contemplate both another run in with overwhelming numbers of infected, as well as any other pockets of humanity like the colony. Because of those horrid people he was starting to see why Francis hated people so much.

"I'm going out there." Zoey announced, breaking his train of thought.

Louis smirked, not bothering to look up. _This will be entertaining._ "Your time might be better spent slamming your head against the wall."

"If he pisses me off anymore, it will be his head meeting the wall."

As the door fell shut behind her the dog lazily rolled over behind the counter and sighed, returning to his nap.

"My thoughts exactly, Bill." Louis yawned, shaking his head.

* * *

She leaned against the building with her arms crossed, brow furrowed as she tried to figure out exactly what the hell he was doing. He'd hung his vest on a nearby wood pile as he stood under a tree with a baseball bat. Somewhere he'd scrounged up an old tire and rope. He'd hung the tire from the tree at waist level and for some reason, was hitting it with the bat, but not swatting at it haphazardly. Each swing he'd steady the tire to be perfectly still, then square up to it with the bat. Slowly he'd align himself to a precise stance and after visibly releasing a breath, he'd unleash a viscous swing onto the rubber ring with a crack. However he would not swing through but remain in the contact position, holding his wrists firm.

It was baffling, and he repeated the process about ten times before she lost her patience.

"What fresh hell are you doing?" She barked, startling him out of his stance.

"Damnit, announce yourself next time!" He snapped and she relaxed. Finally he'd said something to her, but as quickly as he yelled, he turned back to his odd task, clearly flustered.

Growling, she trotted over to him and stood on the other side of the tire. He examined her awkwardly as though she were some sort of swamp creature come to chat. His very posture was pissing her off.

"Why this?" She asked in exasperation, motioning to the tire.

"I was bored?" He replied in question.

"I get that, but why? Normally you shoot and burn things when you're bored. This is new, and frankly, quite concerning."

"It, uh, helps me think." He admitted, wringing the neck of the bat in his hands, avoiding making eye contact. Even thought he was 6'5", a whole foot taller than her, he looked like a skittish teenage boy.

Zoey's eye twitched. "I repeat, _concerning_. What are you even doing?" _What the hell is wrong with you?!_

"It's an exercise for wrist strength." He mumbled, clearly embarrassed and desperate to get her the hell out of his personal space. "And bat control. Look, Zoey, I-"

She cut him off and both of her eyebrows shot up, he was not going to get the opportunity to escape again. "So you actually know what you're doing? Thank God, I thought a few of your screws popped loose." She paused in thought then crossed her arms. "So you didn't always beat guys up for money, huh?"

"We all have... history." He said tiredly, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Zoey stepped forward and placed her hands on top of the tire, squinting at him for a second. He felt like an ant under a magnifying glass on a very sunny day.

Resting her chin on her hands, she considered him thoughtfully as she spoke. "I'd like to hear about it."

Groaning, he looked around, turning in a circle. "Aren't there any fucking vampires around here? Anywhere? Please, Come kill me."

"Oh come on, Francis!" Zoey steamed, standing up straight and crossing her arms. "You'd think I was torturing you!"

"YES." Nodding exuberantly, he received a very indignant glare.

"Spit it out. Now." She ordered.

He opened his mouth to rebut her demand but stopped when she glared harder, reminding him that she had the ability to make him miserable. While that part of his life wasn't his favorite subject, it also wasn't the particular mental slip torturing him at the moment.

Satisfied when his shoulders slumped and he glared at her, she leaned on the tire again. At least he was talking to her again, moronic as he was behaving.

"I hadn't picked up one of these in 15 years prior to the VA."

"Why?"

"I don't like to be reminded of the hell-"

"Hey!" She interrupted, "I don't want the sad part. I want the good stuff, the happy stuff."

"Oh for fuck's sake. Are you always this demanding?"

She shrugged.

Looking down at the ash bat, as if it was some sort of portal to the past, he started talking. "I was ok, I guess."

"Define 'ok'."

"I was getting scouted at 15."

"Sweet, scholarships!"

"No, darling, I was getting _scouted._"

"Oh... oh! You mean majors?"

"Yeah."

"I can see why you'd be bitter. That's a pretty terrible thing to lose."

"It was. I grew like a weed my freshman year and by the time my 15th rolled around, I could hit the ball into the next county, but it wasn't just about distance, I had the average. After Mom signed me up for a few college showcases in Boise and Salt Lake, word got around. Until... I fell off the map." He finished, trailing off. She knew that look, it meant his mind was going to dark places. Scrambling, she pointed at the bat.

"Will you show me?"

"What?" He asked in honest surprise, quickly pulled back to the present.

"How to hit. I'm terrible. It's a miracle when I hit the damned infected."

He wasn't expecting that. "Uh, sure?" Francis handed her the bat and she came to stand in his place. Taking her spot on the other side of the tire he motioned to the black ring. "Show me what you got."

Gawkily she held the bat in the air then chopped down at the tire. Not holding onto the handle tight enough, the bat bounced off the tire and ripped out of her hands, flying away from the tree. Screeching, she ducked, until the bat slid to a stop. Glancing up at Francis, she smiled and held out her arms.

"Ta-da?"

"Did you just hit the tire, or did it hit you? You're right. That was... really terrible. It explains a lot." He said flatly, realizing how on several occasions her melee weapon ended up hitting him when they were battling infected in the city. Walking over he picked up the wood instrument, considering it as he returned to her.

"I told you." Zoey laughed nervously, then quieted. His expression was entirely new. The wheels turned behind his eyes as he focused on the bat, gathering his thoughts. He looked just as thoughtful as Louis working out a puzzle.

"Look." He began, stopping before her, gripping the bat in his usual fashion, both hands together at the bottom of the neck with his pinky wrapped around the knob. "You want to be friends with it. Hold it firm so it won't slip out of your hands, but not so tight that you choke it to death."

Taking the bat from him, she tried to mimic his grip, but her elbows both stuck out. She looked up at him pleadingly. "This feels wrong."

"Hold on, hold on." He moved behind her, wrapped his arms around her, placing his hands gently over hers on the handle. "Relax, now I want you to take your knocking knuckles and line them up."

"Ok." Zoey swallowed hard. His breath puffed by her ear as he spoke and she had a hard time focusing on the actual words coming out of his mouth as shot of adrenaline surged down her limbs. Her hands slid around the handle beneath his until her knuckles were in order. When she'd adjusted he squeezed and directed her through a short swinging motion. Zoey's eyes widened. It felt so much easier than the first swing.

"See how flexible-"

"Yes!" She cut him off. "It's just... going!"

"Now, I want you to bend your legs and get in the lower body stance you use for standing sniping."

She quickly put her feet at just above shoulder length distance apart, focusing the majority of her weight on the balls of her feet. In her adjustments she brushed up against him. The contact made him a bit light headed and he swallowed hard. _This ain't bad at all, but I can't focus for shit._ What was next was not going to help.

"Ok." She said seriously.

"Good." He said hoarsely, trying to prepare himself. "Now... this is the hardest part. Anyone can flail around with a stick, but if you want to swing with any power, you need to use your hips. When hitting anything, the first thing you do is throw your hands at it. The second thing you do, is throw your back hipbone at it to push your hands the rest of the way through. Hands give you speed, hips give you... uh, _torque_."

"Torque." She repeated with a whisper, her mind fluttering in several different directions. Hips and torque. Hips and power. Hips and... grinding _torque. Friction... in my jeans... SHIT!_ What the hell were they doing again?

"Yes." He confirmed lowly and wrapped his arms around her again, gently laying his hands on hers to start slowly pushing the bat towards the tire. When her shoulders moved, but her lower half did not, he took his left hand off the bat and grabbed her front hip, pulling it back into him. Zoey gasped, barely able to hold onto the bat. "Like this." He said lowly, and on his back leg, he pivoted, kneeing the back of her leg to bend and force her hips to turn with his. Her hands moved easily towards the tire with a light slap. "Remember how that felt."

She was equally excited about swinging the bat as she was about the tingling sensations erupting wherever his body touched hers. "Can't forget. Still happening." She choked, closing her eyes as the hand still on her hip gripped harder, then suddenly his presence pulled away from behind her. Cool air rushed over her body and drew out a shiver. Eyes widening for a brief second she thought to herself, trying to focus again on the task at hand. _That was intense. Shit, shit, shit shit shitshitishit..._ _We are playing baseball. BASEBALL. Focus on Francis playing... base...ball...SHITSHITSHITSHIT! NOT HELPING! ZOMBIIIIIIIIIIIES!_

_So much for keeping your distance from her you idiot! How are you gonna explain the gun digging in her back when you're not wearing one! _He snarled internally. Walking stiffly to the other side of the tire, Francis motioned to her target, unable to form words. Staying behind her any longer was absolutely out of the question. He was trying to think of something disgusting enough to cool his boiling blood. ANYTHING!

When her senses returned, she fell into the stance, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand even if the pounding in her ears was reaching deafening levels. There was work to be done, and hitting was a very necessary skill. Lining up her knuckles she set up for a second then flung her hands at the target, following up with her hips as if she'd just thrown the hardest punch of her life. The sound of impact was gleefully loud and the tire writhed under the force of the hit.

"Better." He smiled, quite proud he actually had something useful to teach her after all. Not that he ever thought she wouldn't get it, smart hands and all. She was practically a perfect mimic.

"YEAH!" She cheered, then steadied the tire to hit it again. After a few repetitions she grew frustrated. "Francis, it keeps bouncing back, how do I get it to stay still and put all the energy into the tire, like you were doing?"

"Takes about a few thousand reps before your wrists get strong enough."

"Oh, ok." She sighed in temporary defeat. Picking up the bat again Zoey absently lined up on the tire again and took another nearly flawless swing, but something felt different. She shrugged it off and did it again.

Francis's jaw hit the floor. _Did_ _she just? No! Yes she did!_ "You've got to be kidding me!" He yelled in disbelief.

"What!"

"You're perfectly ambidextrous!"

"I am?" She looked down at her feet.

"You just lined up on the left side and hit just as well as you did on the right!"

"Oh, I didn't notice."

"You didn't notice? Zoey!" Francis was blown away. The only thing he'd be more impressed by was if dog Bill started talking.

"Is that good?"

"That's, that's amazing! Some dudes would kill for that ability! Some train for years just to hit half ass on the left side!"

"Well, I guess that makes me a full ass." She laughed earnestly. Surprised by her self-depreciating joke, he paused, smiled, then laughed. He finally surrendered to thought he'd been fighting for days.

_Damnit. I'm so fucked. I do love her. _Francis wiped his eyes as the shuddering in his stomach eased, then looked up at the sky. "Not long til the light is gone. Better get going if you want to smack that thing some more."

"I..." Zoey paused, looking down at the bat then back up to Francis, his mood had changed drastically. He seemed like his usual self again. Mission accomplished. "I wanna know something."

"Huh?" He grunted, placing his hands on the tire to make it still.

"What did I do to make you so angry these last few days?"

"That wasn't anger. You've never made me angry."

"Then what was it?"

Chest tightening in apprehension, he made the conscious decision to actually tell her part of the truth. "Fear."

"Fear?" The word was foreign in her concept of him. "What could you of all people possibly be afraid of?"

"You."

Zoey furrowed her brow and gripped the bat harder as she considered his answer. That was the most asinine thing she'd ever heard. "Me? Why?"

He didn't know how to say it. Fear of the future torment he saw laid out before her. Fear of his ability to save her from herself. Fear of his own affection for her. None of that needed to be discussed at that point because it was moot. The decision had been made. However events unfolded, even if she decided she didn't want him anymore, he would be by her side when she came upon the abyss at her reckoning.

"It doesn't matter. I'm not afraid anymore."

Zoey stared intently at him to see if there was some lingering bit of information he was not telling her. He returned her expression without so much as an errant blink. "Wimp." She goaded, breaking into a smile."I wasn't actually going to burp you."

Her teasing let him know she was satisfied with the answer for the time being, but it wasn't the end of that particular discussion. There was something going on in his head, and whatever it was, she wasn't about to forget it, but she trusted his discretion.

"I think we used up the rest of our daylight babbling like idiots." He thought aloud, looking at the remains of the sunlight fading to evening. "Stars will be out soon."

Zoey dropped the bat and stepped around the tire. Sliding her hands around his waist, she crushed herself against him, resting her head on his chest. Sighing, he wrapped his arms around her as well, bowing his head to rest his nose on the crown of her head.

"Francis?" She asked into his shirt.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe you should be scared of me."

"Why's that?"

"I've injured you more than any zombie. Hit you repeatedly with blunt objects, shot you with your own gun... just saying."

"Actually, I think you've come pretty close to lighting me on fire a few times. Then there was that pipe bomb you meant to throw out the window... and missed."

"Can we not name all the times I've almost killed us all?" She asked, failing to conceal her laughter.

"Just saying." He joked lightly, holding up his hands defensively. Zoey socked him in the arm then reached up to pull his face down to hers, kissing him firmly. He gently touched her face, running his thumb over her soft cheek. Pulling back a bit, he kissed her forehead then stood fully.

"Sorry to be the spoilsport, but we should head in. Louie's gonna come looking for us soon." He predicted, fighting his own desire to ignore it. Laying one more quick kiss on her expectant lips, he dropped his hands to her shoulders and pulled away to look at their surroundings. "And there's probably vampires running around out here somewhere."

"Probably, but I think we can handle them."

He snorted. "We have one bat and no guns, and I need to protect my _assets_." He finished, pushing her towards the store. "So get your assets moving."

"You big tease."

"What's he teasing you about?" Louis's voice echoed from the side of the building as he walked around, gun in hand. "I was beginning to think you guys got attacked... or killed each other."

"Just showin her how to not hit like a girl." Francis said with a an antagonistic grin aimed at the young woman.

"You know, that's not a bad idea, I think she's hit me a few times during a swarm." Louis said thoughtfully.

"Hey!" Zoey yelped. "It wasn't on purpose!"

Francis ignored her complaint. "We were just discussing that. She's tried to light me on fire and actually shot me."

"And she chopped off my leg." Louis added, leveling an indignant glare at him.

"How about I show you what I learned?" Zoey glowered.

"No thanks, I'm injury free right now, want to stay that way." Louis teased, throwing open the door. Francis stepped forward and held the door open. Zoey stomped past him, hand in the air.

"Maybe I won't give you a choice!" She yelled. "Next time your leg needs chopping don't come to me for help!"

Francis smiled and locked the door once he was in the store. Crossing his arms as Zoey and Louis went back and forth in their spat, he couldn't help but smile. Picking up a candy bar, he sat on a display shelf to watch.

"NEXT TIME?" Louis yelled. "Are you planning something?"

Enjoying the theatrics, Zoey pointed at him and roared. "I wasn't but I'm open to the idea now!"

* * *

_The large red door slammed into place with a resounding boom. Louis fired his uzi out the steel bars as claws flailed about trying to find purchase on living flesh. On the floor, Bill used all of his strength to hold the door shut. _

_"Damnit! Louis! Put the bar in!"_

_"I'm trying! There's a hundred of them!" _

_"I KNOW!" _

_"I... I got this." Zoey gasped, pulling out a pipe bomb she'd been saving for an emergency. That particular moment qualified. She'd just been pulled out of a horde and was beat up pretty bad. Keeping her from collapsing in a heap with an arm around her waist, Francis watched her struggle to ignite the wick. When she succeeded, she stepped away from him, pushing away from his support. Reaching back she flung the device toward the open space at the top of the saferoom to fly out into the baggage claim area they just exited. _

_Well, that's what she intended to do anyway. The silver cylinder bounced off a piece of wood nailed over the hole right back into the saferoom. _

_"Oh, God." Zoey breathed._

_A silence befell all four survivors when they realized what had happened. The steady chriping from the smoke alarm beeper echoed the quickening beats of all four hearts. At once, they all erupted in to yelling. Zoey and Louis chased it as it bounced a couple times to land behind a crate. They squabbled trying to push each other out of the way._

_"Move!" Zoey screeched. _

_"YOU MOVE!" _

_"THERE'S NO TIME TO ARGUE!" She cried. _

_"Right." The third voice growled. A hand gripped each of their shoulders and they found themselves flying and sliding across the saferoom to land in a heap at Bill's feet. Both heads peeked up in shock as the crate was violently pushed away from the wall. Francis quickly reached over to pick up the explosive and spun with ease to launch it expertly out the small window in the wall. The beeping receded as it flew, but it would not get far away enough to explode safely. The infected swarmed away from the door, giving Bill the relief he needed to jump up and slam the bar home and lock the door. Grabbing Zoey, the two dove behind the reinforced concrete section of the wall. Dazed, Louis sat where he was. Francis ran over and grabbed him, tossing him to land with Bill and Zoey. Skidding to a stop next to the group, he nodded at Bill and slammed the heels of his palms into Louis's ears in the same way Bill did to Zoey. _

_The bomb went off, shaking the walls with a ripple of sound and force. Dust fell from the ceiling when the shock subsided. Sitting up when Francis's hands released him, Louis rubbed his sore ears then his stomach. He'd never been that close to an explosion and it felt like he had been punched in the gut. _

_"Oh damn, Francis, that hurt."_

_Zoey sat up as well, grimacing from the pain in her head and in her stomach. "No shit. Bill, you coulda been a bit gentler."_

_There was no response from either of their assaulters. Sharing a curious glance, they looked at the two other men. Bill sat back against the wall with his eyes shut, hands on his ears. Francis was in the same boat, but he laid on the ground. _

_"Guys?" Louis asked. "Francis? Bill?"_

_There was still no response. Zoey scooted over next to Bill and touched his arm. Bill jumped a bit, and stared wide eyed at Zoey. _

_"Are you ok?" She asked. Slowly pulling his hands down from his ears she gasped when she saw the blood on his palms. "Oh my gosh, Bill!" She cried. "What do I do?"_

_Bill said nothing, only able to hear a very loud ringing in his head as her mouth moved. Her words were completely lost. Louis turned to Francis and carefully touched his arm. Francis's eyes shot open and he sat up. Removing his hands from his ears, he saw the blood pooled in his palms. Turning his glance to Bill, he was pleased to see he was alive, although in the same condition. Nodding, he ignored Louis's hand gestures and apparent yelling. Thankfully he couldn't hear it, even if the ringing in his ears was painful. _

_"Louis! He can't hear me!" Zoey said in panic. _

_"Francis is the same. Don't panic, they were expecting this." Louis said softly, suddenly very ashamed of himself. He'd been taking cheap shots at Francis verbally since he joined the team a week earlier, determined that if given the chance, the jerk would screw them over. Now the man sat before him bleeding from his ears because of the concussion of the pipebomb Louis made. He could have covered his own ears, but he chose to protect his teammate instead, shattering Louis's expectations. Pulling out his health pack, Louis removed some gauze. Handing the sterile fabric to Francis he smiled apologetically. _

_"Will they be ok?" Zoey asked, doing the same for Bill. _

_"They should be, but their eardrums may be ruptured. Their hearing should come back shortly." _

_"Alright. Then I get to apologize profusely. Yay." Zoey said flatly, trying to assist Bill, who kept swatting her away._

_The edges of sound started coming back to Francis as he watched Louis and Zoey in what appeared to be a fairly serious conversation. Their voices still sounded like they were miles away, but he was able to make out what they were saying. _

_"Zoey, I'm sorry."_

_She raised an eyebrow, finally leaving Bill to his own devices. "Why?"_

_"You were right, Francis isn't a bad guy. I should have trusted you. I was really an ass this last week for nothing."_

_Zoey snorted. "Louis, you being an ass is roughly equivalent to a normal person being mildly impolite. I guarantee he didn't notice."_

_"It's not what you say, it's the spirit you have when you say it. My mother would be very disappointed." He admitted, getting up to go scrounge for some food. Uncomfortable, Francis silently went to go check on his weapons and get his affairs in order. He didn't want them to know he heard their conversation at all._

_"Louis. It's ok. Just make it up to him, but don't say anything. I think that would really weird him out."_

_"Yeah, I'll do that."_

_"Hey." Bill practically yelled, unable to modulate his voice without hearing it. "Head's killing me. I'm going to sleep this off." _

_Zoey turned to him, nodded and saluted. The old man set to bedding down for the night._

_Finishing up loading his clips, Francis walked over to the counter with the water and other supplies. Louis slid him an open can of beans without a word or a second glance and went to eat his own meal. Eyes wide, Francis watched him walk away to eat his own food. _

_"Hey." Zoey said reflexively trying to get Francis's attention. Francis turned back to her, forgetting about being "deaf". When he looked at her curiously, a sly smile blossomed on her face, knowing he'd probably heard most of that conversation. Quickly, he raised a finger to his mouth, telling her to keep quiet about it. Nodding, she pointed to the cup of water and cloths she'd been putting together, then motioned to a chair-height crate._

_He shook his head profusely. _

_She pointed again sternly and glared. Rolling his eyes he conceded and sat, eating the can of beans while she mopped up the blood on his ears and neck. When she completed her work, she went to bed down near Bill. _

_Still sitting on the crate, Francis leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and watched his friends sleep. Thinking to himself, he smirked. For the first time in his life, he was being treated like an actual person, not a resource. It was nice._

* * *

After a long day of rooting around the surrounding buildings, the trio enjoyed another calorie rich dinner. Ready to relax Louis removed his prosthetic then reached for his cane. Grunting in irritation he forgot he had put it on outside that morning.

"Dammit."

"What?" Zoey asked.

"My cane is out on the bike."

"I'll get it. Dog needs to pee before we lock the door." Francis volunteered, shoving the rest of his meal in his mouth as he stood. "Come on, Bill." He mumbled through food and slapped his leg to get the dog's attention. They walked out the front of the store into the evening twilight. Free of the door Bill chased after an errant squirrel while Francis located the cane and removed it from the BMW.

A moment later the dog returned and sniffed around the bikes. Francis inhaled the crisp evening air looked up at the violet sky streaked with pink cloud wisps. The last of the sun was going down over the trees and as he watched the first star of the night blinked into view. He was reminded of a childhood rhyme his mother would tell him as a young child would grant his wishes. _Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight._ Shaking his head he peered down at the cane in his grip then back up at the sky.

With the prospect of hitting the road again approaching in the next 48 hours, he still didn't have any cards up his sleeves or miracles in his pockets. As usual when he stuck at the bottom of a hole searching for a way out, or for answers, it meant looking skyward. Empty childish wishes just weren't going to cut it. Gazing down at Bill, he half smiled as the dog grinned back up at him with a wagging tail and a panting tongue. The dog always looked up for his answers, so why was Francis so hesitant? Clearing his throat, he sheepishly peeked up at the growing star field. He hadn't said a word otherwise to the Big Guy since being strapped to that tree.

"Hey, uh, it's me again, I'm just wondering if you got any more of those miracles left. You've been giving them to us left and right, but if you have one more, I'd really appreciate it. We're going to be taking off in the next day or so and we're not exactly at 100%. We need help bad. Uh, thanks." Finishing his survey of the sky, he nodded in approval of his efforts and pet the dog for a minute.

Yawning, Francis ambled back toward the store when Bill stopped in his tracks and alerted. Francis paused, calling to the dog. "Let's go, Bill."

It did not move. Hair began to stand on the animal's back and Francis swallowed hard. The dog only alerted to danger.

"Bill?" Francis held his breath as he watched and listened. "Oh shit... please don't be vampires." He prayed under his breath, squinting in the direction Bill glared until he heard it.

His stomach twisted instantly into a knot. Unmistakable over the breeze was the whining of a car engine coming down the road. That was potentially worse. "Damnit! Bill, inside now!" As they sprinted in the door, a truck turned the corner. "Louis! Zoey!"

Zoey jumped up from the floor, food in mouth.

"What?!"

"We got company! _Alive_ company! Louis get your leg back on!"

"The bikes." Zoey realized, starting for the door, Francis grabbed her arm as she sprinted to pass him.

The car pulled to a stop outside.

"It's too late!"

Francis slammed the door shut and locked it. The trio plus dog assumed defensive positions behind the shelves. They knew they had been found, but there was no point in getting shot, even if they did lose the bikes and everything on them.

Voices and slamming car doors echoed in the broken store windows. They didn't sound malicious, but that didn't mean anything. There was a knock at the door then a voice echoed in through the broken windows. A woman's voice.

"Hello in there? We're friendly!"

"Bullshit!" Zoey snarled reflexively. Her heart pounded as memories of the last 'friendly' people they encountered refreshed in her mind. A man's disarming voice toned in.

"Hi y'all, we know it's you! Louis, Francis, Zoey. We want to talk to you!"

The trio exchanged curious looks. They knew those voices. Louis popped up to look over the shelf to see a familiar smile in the broken window.

"No way. _Ellis_?"

"Hey, Louis!"

Francis and Zoey rose as well, not sure whether to be friendly or start throwing stuff.

"Tell them to open the damn door!"

That voice was one Francis did NOT want to hear.

"I guess he made it." Louis said quietly to Francis. Zoey shot them both a confused expression.

"Who?"

"Is that Nutter Butter over there?!" Ellis exclaimed, getting their attention again. "Oh man, I don't care if it's stale, even if you don't let us in, can I have it?! Just throw it at the window, I'll catch it with my _teeth_!"

"What do you want to talk about?" Louis asked.

"Hold on, Rochelle wants face time. But don't forget the nutter-" He was pulled out of the way and Rochelle took his place in the window.

"Hi again guys, it's a _miracle_ we found you again at all, but we were wondering if we could go with you."

"Go with us? Where?" Louis asked, playing dumb.

"Ellis told us about the island. We think it's a good idea."

Francis and Louis glared at Zoey. She shrugged with a nervous laugh. "Sorry!" She whispered. Ellis jumped behind Rochelle again.

"Hey, guys, it's getting dark out, can we _please_ come in?"

Louis looked to his companions, straining to find his usual compassion for the strangers. Zoey shrugged, feeling like she really didn't have a say in the matter since it was her big mouth that gave the others the idea of find them.

Francis locked his jaw as he thought. Despite not offering any help, at least they left in peace last time. Hopefully they would be able to get them to make a repeat performance in the morning. For the moment they were of no threat, and it wasn't going to kill him if they spent one night under the same roof and shared some food. If they had only been after the bikes and supplies, they would have taken them and left. It would take a truly sadistic kind of person to track people down for the sole purpose of killing them.

"Whatever." He mumbled, fighting against his temper.

Louis hopped over to the door with his cane and unlocked it. The four piled in with sighs of relief. Across the room Zoey and Francis observed them carefully, not about to give them an inch of room they didn't need.

They gathered nervously by the register looking around and practically waiting for permission to make another move. As he shut and relocked the door Louis privately wondered if they felt remorse about how they cut and ran last time, but a piece of him really didn't care because thoughts and actions were two different things.

Rochelle's stomach gurgled loudly and she clutched her slender waist in embarrassment. "Oh my..."

"You know, there is a ton of food over there." The four new sets of eyes looked to him and froze. Having been so excited to get in the building, they had run right past him. It was the first time they had seen the less than complete leg.

"Son, what the hell happened to your leg?" Coach barked in shock.

"It involuntarily fell off."

Examining the others suspiciously, keeping a permanent eye on Nick, Francis strode purposefully to the front of the store to position himself between Louis and the others.

"I don't know why you care how he's doing all of sudden." Francis spat. "Just eat and keep to your damn selves."

Nick opened his mouth to sling his own muddy remark, but Rochelle placed a hand on his shoulder to silence him. Francis and Louis made their way down the aisles back to the office. Zoey stood outside the door with her arms crossed, unsure if anything needed to be said at all. As her two companions passed her to walk into the door where they had setup for the night, one last voice echoed off the concrete walls of the store.

"We never got around to say it that day, which was rude, but we are really sorry."

Louis and Francis looked back out the door. Ellis stood at the very end of the aisle with his hat clenched in his hands.

"About which part?" Francis replied hotly narrowing his eyes. Ellis looked away sheepishly before swallowing his nerves and then faced the intimidating bull of a man.

"Sometimes it's easy to forget that everyone's lost someone in this mess. We saw his body in the generator room and didn't even ask his name."

Francis relaxed his shoulders in mild surprise then caught Zoey's astonishment as she peered up to him. With slumping shoulders she turned and disappeared into the office without a word. Francis shook his head as if to shrug off the comment, but the emotional barb he thought had healed a while back was still sharp. Memories and emotions he had hoped to drink away refreshed in his mind's eye. Following the slight woman in the door he rubbed the back of his neck and grunted.

Louis remained for a few seconds, zoning out down at his stump of a lower leg. As much as it was a reminder of the witches that shredded the hell out of it, it was the tie he would have for the rest of his life to memories of watching a man end his life in a violent sacrifice for his friends own good. He was a good man, a brave man, a great man.

"Bill. His name was Bill. Goodnight. Enjoy the food."

Louis leaned heavily on the cane as he made his way in the door. Everything felt so heavy all of a sudden.

* * *

"Did you see their faces? The big one and the girl had the hell beat out of them not too long ago." Coach's hushed voice voiced in concern. The group of four holed up behind the register counter, packages of food spread out before them.

"Well it can't be easy with just three people and only five legs to go between them. I don't know how they made it this far. And they're so _thin._" Rochelle said with a sigh, considering her fruit leather before taking a large bite.

"I still think this is a bad idea." Nick toned in darkly.

"You were outvoted, bro." Ellis informed with a mouthful of his fourth Nutter Butter. As tasty as it was, he would regret the sugar reflux later.

"Still."

"Everything will be fine." Rochelle tried to assure them, not too sure herself. "The biggest issue is going to be getting them to trust us, since, well, we kinda took off last time."

"Right." The Italian said with a snort. He knew things they didn't. It wasn't just going to be an issue, it was going to be a big damn problem at some point. In his best female impersonation he batted his eyes. "Sorry we left you high and dry, forgivesies?" _Not to mention my history with Francis._

"I don't know, maybe they missed us." Ellis said softly, tossing an angry stare at a Nutter Butter wrapper as his stomach gurgled in complaint.

Coach chuckled but kept his mouth shut. He knew that if Zoey was really all that interested in seeing him, the reception would have been warmer. Plus she would have come with when they offered. She had ties that would not be broken, but he wouldn't crush the young man's hopes just yet.

"Can you imagine?" Rochelle said, lost in thought. "All this time we've been together, doing what we're doing, what would it be like to watch one of us get torn to pieces?"

The four looked back and forth between each other for a silent few seconds. None of them had ever actually considered it. While they would joke about death and the infected, they had long since lost their fear of them. Who knew what kind of borrowed time they were actually living on.

"No one lives forever." Nick edged out somberly.

"Seeing them though..." Ellis trailed off. "They look beat and that makes it all feel real again. I mean, a few bad strokes of luck and that could have been us."

Coach crossed his arms leaning back against the counter, ever the sober voice of reason, then sighed. "Still, could be, Son."

* * *

Francis sat by the door, silently listening to the conversation of the others echoing around the store in spite of their attempts to keep quiet. Louis and Zoey were wrapped up in their sleeping bags, facing different directions. No one felt like talking after getting a thorough memory refresher of that horrible day.

The four out there still seemed so fresh, so untouchable. He had been trying to push reality away, but even with the calorie deluge he still felt so very tired. Outside the untouched convenience store, they never seemed to be able to catch a break. He also couldn't figure out if the presence of the others was a curse or the miracle he asked for. Clasping his hands together he rested his elbows on his knees then raised his joined hands to his forehead. With a heavy breath, he closed his eyes.

_I don't know what to do._

The evidence he wanted so badly to ignore kept slapping him in the face. The three of them were no match for an encounter with infected potentially greater than they faced in escape from Pennsylvania. With old man Bill alive and all four of them at perfect health they would have stood a fighting chance, but like Zoey said, three run down people, one of which is an amputee? They were running on fumes of desperation and hope though they would never admit to it. The other four were in comparably great health. Personality defects aside, they were not murderers, seeking slaves, or trying to eat them. That alone put them in the positive category.

The other fact, that wasn't really a fact, was that they had been able to locate Francis, Louis and Zoey despite the size of the Eastern US, with only a vague direction to go on. That was in miracle territory alone. The nuns and friars at the mission would have called it all one big sign. Help when you need it whether or not you wanted it usually had a divine origin.

The dog wandered over to him and curled in a ball at his feet. Francis released his hands and leaned in to pet the animal's soft fur. Whispering to himself, he smirked. "And I know what you'd say too, old man. Everyone needs something, and everyone has crap to give, blah blah blah. Well, we really could use _you_ right now."

One thing was for sure, the air was heavy. He couldn't tell if the storm cloud above them was ready to downpour or dissolve. The arrival of the other four would either be very good... or very, very bad. The question would be if they had the courage to try and live into the answer or if they would make their own effort to cut and run.

More rustling caught his attention. He couldn't see much in the nearly pitch dark of the windowless office. He cracked a smile when small warm hands felt around and gripped his arm. She settled against his side and laid her arm across his waist. Her voice drifted out at a barely audible volume.

"I want to hate them so bad."

"I hate them out of principle."

"Naturally." He could almost feel her smile in the dark. "Francis?"

"Yeah?"

"We're going to have to keep them, aren't we?"

He sighed heavily. "If we do it doesn't mean we have to like them... or trust them."

Zoey waited in silence as the group outside the door laughed at some unheard joke. Over in his bag, Louis rustled and sighed heavily. Zoey removed her arm and sat up fully, trying to look inconspicuous even in the relative dark. Louis crawled over and sat on the other side of the dog, petting him.

"I don't like it either, but I don't know if we really have a choice if we want to live." Louis said softly and thoughtfully.

Francis rested his head back on the cool cement wall again. "My only job is to make sure you two live. I just can't do it alone going into a hole like that, not like I am now."

Zoey crossed her arms and focused on the light coming under the door. "Let's not make any decisions until we see how tomorrow goes. They still screwed us over and there's nothing that says they won't do it again."

Francis and Louis looked at each other and nodded. They had 24 hours.

* * *

"No! Just no! It's not fair!"

"Ellis don't be unreasonable."

"Jimmy's kept us safe for a long time!"

"It's a damn car, get over it. And quit acting like you don't name every car we've been in Jimmy. It makes _sense_ to get bikes like Louis said to."

"Jimmy the fourth takes offense to that, Nick." Rochelle joked, pulling some weapons out of the trunk of the blue SUV. They enjoyed the excellent weather out on the truck, eating high calorie junk food and cleaning their weapons. It wasn't often they got the reprieve to rest either, so they savored the crisp morning air and warm sun.

Louis, Zoey, and Francis walked out of the store together and stood before the newcomers. Bill meandered out and sat at Zoey's feet. They had agreed that Louis would do all the talking since Francis mostly just wanted to start throwing punches. He was still irked about the whole 'getting left defenseless on the bridge' thing and no matter how much he tried to put the anger aside, he couldn't. Louis wasn't feeling his usual brand of happy-go-lucky either for the same reason. Back then, if they had actually offered help he may have never lost his leg to infection.

"Here's the deal. We don't trust you and at the moment we really don't like you all that much. If we weren't in such piss poor shape, we would have chased you out of town after the mess at the bridge."

The four at the SUV paused and listened intently. Nick bit his tongue after Rochelle tossed him a look that could melt steel. They had been expecting this conversation and his fear of a tongue lashing from the spicy woman was enough to keep him quiet. Ellis struggled to stay quiet just because he wanted so desperately to make peace with them... and maybe impress Zoey a little.

"We're listening." Coach acknowledged. Louis nodded and continued.

"We have a shopping list to fill before we head back into high population centers. If we're going to start getting along, we can get to know each other while gathering supplies. I want to stress just how much of a stretch this is for us. If we have to, we will cut and run at the first sign of being crossed."

"How do you want to do this?" Ellis asked eagerly.

"Split into mixed teams. Team one will look for gas and bikes for you four. Team two will gather med supplies and food, and I will stay here with one volunteer to work on the maps and rest my leg since the prosthetic is hell on me." Louis explained plainly.

"I'm old. I get to stay." Coach said, leaving no room for argument. Zoey snorted, reminded of Bill. "What?" He wondered with an indignant air.

"Just reminded me of a friend." She said sweetly, crossing her arms as she smiled. Francis stuffed his smirk away, mumbling to her privately.

"Nah. Not enough bitching about 'nam."

Louis continued, "Rochelle, Nick, and Zoey will look for supplies while Francis and Ellis look for bikes and gas."

Francis did a double take, he didn't realize that would have to be how they split. "What?" He said flatly, realizing there was no way he could bitch about it without revealing he wanted to be running around with Zoey. Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ellis steam as well. Francis figured he probably didn't want to be on a team alone with him, then again, he may have wanted a shot at flirting with Zoey. With that thought he quickly came to terms with the arrangement. Keeping his eye on the hayseed would be preferential.

"What?" Louis wondered. Francis shook his head, frustrated his growing concern was not the infected but the young love struck mechanic. Screwed up priorities could prove to be problematic.

"Nevermind."

Sitting on the tailgate of the open SUV trunk, Nick eyed Francis suspiciously when he practically fell over at the team assignments, then bristled when he saw him level a menacing look at Ellis. He wanted to volunteer to go with Ellis... just in case the overgrown gorilla lost his temper, but he couldn't leave Rochelle by herself. Ellis's reaction was predictable, he was practically beaming the whole night with those stupid gooey eyes he'd had at the bridge when that cold girl ate up all the attention but didn't return much of it.

"Well, where are we going then? I want to be back before dark." Nick asked, jumping off the tailgate, removing the white sport coat to roll up his robin's egg blue sleeves.

Louis walked over and handed him the map. "There's a slightly larger town to the west. Probably have what we need."

"Ok. While we're young then." Nick said. "Ro and Zoey, in the truck. Make sure we throw out all the useful crap, we will probably be riding bikes back."

Zoey looked up to Francis and shrugged, checking her weapons. He tried to look unconcerned, but he was nervous at letting her out of his sight with two strangers. As long as she stayed with Rochelle he could deal with it, after all, Zoey was still no wilting flower. Before she took off to jump in the SUV, Zoey saw Francis's knuckles turning white as he gripped his shotgun.

"Hey." She mumbled and he looked down. "Focus on the job."

He nodded and strode purposefully towards the bikes. "Hayseed, on Zoey's bike."

"Ok." Ellis chirped, strapping on his weapons.

After the engines started up and the three vehicles rolled out of town, Louis sighed and looked to Coach. "Shall we?"

"Sure. I'll see if I can make some decent dinner out of what's in the store."

Louis pulled out his maps and spread them over the counter while Coach perused the aisles with the dog watching him intently, hoping something would fall down to his realm. Picking up cans then setting them back down he stood tall and laughed. "It won't be great, but it will be better than reconstituted freeze dried shit."

Louis smiled politely and went back to reading. Having hoped that line would start a conversation, Coach wandered over with his items and stopped at the counter. "You don't talk much, Son."

"I apologize. It's just been a long... _long_ road." Louis said with a tired sigh. "Including the first time we met you guys, our luck with other "live" people has been troubling."

"How so?"

"Well, there is this group of freaks hiding out in the hills of North Carolina convinced they have to start repopulating the world. Their entire purpose is to find women and impregnate them against their will. They almost got Zoey, and in the process tried to kill Francis by tying him to a tree. That is on top of the week we spent in a liquor store while Francis and Zoey had to cut off my leg, which was of course after losing Bill..."

"Damn, Son. We've basically been living out Dukes of Hazard with zombies."

"You're lucky, I guess." Louis chuckled at the thought.

"I prefer blessed."

* * *

"Hey Zoey, are we going or what?" Rochelle asked with a light smile.

"Oh, sorry." The young woman apologized, watching the two bikes disappear around the corner. She carefully followed her two new companions into the building, the infected around them seemed oblivious to their presence for the most part, their leathery hides looking more like cheap movie costumes. In a sense she felt outnumbered, not really having any trust for anyone but Louis and Francis. New people were scary, even if they weren't all that new.

"They'll be back." Nick said, kicking open a door. "Both of them have enough dumb luck for all of us."

Zoey narrowed her eyes for a moment, gripping her rifle as she followed them in the former medical clinic. "You knew Francis from before?" She asked slowly. Nick winced, that had slipped.

"Just from the bridge." He lied. Rochelle looked back and forth between Zoey and Nick, wondering if she'd have to run interference.

"Hey, guys, let's get these supplies." She suggested calmly. Zoey ignored her, remaining trained on Nick.

"You're lying. He was never in danger when you showed up."

"Come on you two, is this really the right time for this?" Rochelle asked nervously.

"We were loosely acquainted." Nick replied evenly, kicking open another locked door that lead back to the procedural area. "You could have called it a business relationship."

Zoey was not satisfied, and she wasn't stupid either. "So you're one of the mobsters he's been running from."

"Was. _Was_ a mobster. I'm out."

Rochelle went silent and listened in. Nick had never volunteered any information about himself before. Zoey stepped forward, the way she gripped her rifle drawing a bit of alarm from the other two.

"I've seen the movies, watched the _Sopranos_. No one gets out unless it's in a body bag." Zoey said lowly, eyes hollow. Subconsciously Nick began to move his own weapon, but actively subdued the reflex and swung the automatic weapon to hang on his shoulder.

"Ever seen a mob movie with zombies?" He asked seriously. Zoey stopped, willing to hear him out. "I didn't think so, so let me explain this to you. If they aren't all dead and think _I_ am dead, they won't hunt me, well, _us_ down. He's not the only one that had an ongoing issue with the family. The difference was they _liked _him_._"

"Liar. No one likes Francis but Louis and I."

"Look, sweetheart, you've never seen him Hulk out and lose his mind. He is a _very_ useful asset to those people. Toss him in a room with a bunch of people you don't like and he will be the only one walking out under his own power."

"No." Zoey hissed in disbelief, "That can't be true. He's never killed anyone!"

"You're right, he didn't. That ended up being _my job _whenever he flaked out." Nick snapped bitterly, "He is walking hate machine just itching to explode. He gets his rocks off shooting these zombies now, but when that's gone just wait and see what happens."

"No." Zoey refused to believe it. She couldn't control the bile rising in her stomach. Doubt, disbelief... fear. "You don't know him like I do."

Nick spotted the crack in her facade and poked at it. "I chased him for over ten years, _girl_. You're just some dumb, pretty girl convenient enough to keep around for the time being."

"You're wrong!" She snapped. Ten years of that didn't measure up to anything next to what they'd been through. She knew, _she knew_ Bill couldn't be wrong... her father couldn't be wrong. People were creatures of change and ultimately good at the core, all they needed was a torch to light the way. "Francis is not a monster, he's just been dragged to the edge and strung out to dry by rotten people like you... why else would he run?!"

"I hope I am wrong, Zoey!" Nick yelled louder than he intended. Shaken up, she backed up, gripping her rifle defensively again.

"You are." Zoey said with a deadly calm. "Now let's get those supplies." As she shuffled past through the door, Rochelle leveled a rather surprised look at Nick.

"Wow."

"What?!" He snapped.

"Don't take that tone with me, Nicholas." Rochelle warned.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. I get you, but you better make nice with her, alright?"

"You're probably right." He groaned. Being around normal people was awful, you always had to worry about trampling their precious _feelings_.

"Nick, Nick, Nick. I'm always right, sweetie." She said with a bright smile and squeezed his arm.

Zoey quickly moved around the supply closet pulling packages and containers to shove in her bag. She wanted to get out with Francis and Ellis as fast as she could. Ten minutes of Nick was more than she could handle in a day.

Apparently he didn't feel the same way about her.

"Zoey, look..."

Rolling her eyes she turned around, she kept the bag between them.

"Keep moving, Scarface, there's no cocaine or whores in this closet." She snarled and walked away. With that, his control on his temper failed. Spinning around he stormed out of the building.

Rochelle jumped up from behind a counter. "Where's he going?"

"Don't know, don't care!" Zoey sang, continuing to go down the list and pack her bag.

"I'll get him, just stay here and finish up." Rochelle said, dropping her bag, trotting out the door.

"Alright, Skipper." Zoey replied, trying not to sling too much venom. Rochelle was an innocent bystander in the whole mess.

Nick slammed the front door letting off steam. He _hated_ that girl. She was a snobbish brat, clearly from an upper middle class family with an outrageous sense of entitlement and opinion. Why the hell she latched onto a piece of trash like Francis was beyond him. Nick was just trying to warn her, but now that he tried, his obligation had been settled.

Kicking over a trashcan he jumped a bit when he stubbed his toe. It was empty and didn't have nearly the satisfying spread of garbage he was hoping for. The door popped open and Rochelle walked out, throwing a leery glance toward the wandering infected.

"Nick, come back in, it's not safe out here."

"It's not safe in _there_!" He cried in exasperation.

"Oh, come on, she's just defending her team. If anyone said things like that about you Ellis, or Coach, I'd lay'm out too."

"I'm not worth defending, Rochelle. You don't know how dirty my hands are."

"I don't want or need to know. That was then and it doesn't matter. Our true selves came out the second the shit hit the fan, and you're not a bad guy. An ass, but not bad." She finished with a warm smile. "And I think that's what Zoey was trying to say about Francis too."

Nick pulled out one of his pistols and played with it. "You really think people can change?"

"If we don't, we die. I used to be pro gun control, now I'm pro big badass guns for everyone." Rochelle chuckled. Nick smiled. "What can I say? I'm an optimist."

"You are a graceful woman, Rochelle."

"And you're a-"

The snort and groan of a charger cut the air. Nick turned his head just in time to see the monolithic arm speeding towards them. His only reflex was to reach forward and shove Rochelle out of the way. She surged to the left just as the beast passed, but it clipped her shoulder and flattened her as it grabbed a hold of Nick and slammed him into the side of the building, instantly knocking the air, and sense out of him. Rochelle cried out on the ground, scrambling for her pistols as the monster picked up and slammed her friend into the sidewalk.

Rolling to her side, gasping for air she raised her pistol, but her shots were drowned out by 3 sniper rifle rounds. The charger fell limp to the ground, partially on top of Nick. Craning her head she expected to see Ellis, but Zoey was just in the process of lowering her rifle. "Can you move?" Zoey asked seriously, in the process of running over to Nick.

"Yes." Rochelle coughed, trying to ignore the pain of the impact. Zoey strapped her weapon and with considerable effort pushed the mutated zombie off of him.

"Wake up, Nick. You're bleeding. Those walking scarecrows will be here shortly." Zoey said gently, urging his senses back into him.

"Rochelle!" He gasped.

"She's ok, but you won't be if you don't get moving."

"Tits!" He yelled. Zoey looked around in confusion then back down to him, checking to make sure her own coat was shut.

"Excuse me?"

"I ate the last granola bar..." Nick babbled, head lolling.

"He's delirious. Says stuff like that when he's been knocked around." Rochelle informed her, spying down the street as the grunts and walking paths of the infected were shifting on them.

"Outta time." Zoey said, jumping behind him. Hooking her hands under his arms she started pulling him towards the door. "You're lucky I'm used to pulling Francis's jolly green giant butt around when he gets the stuffing beat out of him." She grunted, finally dropping him down inside the door. Rochelle shut the door then slid down behind it, clutching her arm.

"You are way too accustomed to this, sweetie." Rochelle commented darkly as Zoey walked over to her and calmly assessed her. Kneeling beside her she saw the displacement of her shoulder. Gripping Rochelle's arm she looked at her with an apologetic frown.

"It's not a good thing, Ro. This will-" With all of her might she pulled on the arm and with a loud pop it snapped back into place. Rochelle screamed, but the relief was immediate. "..hurt. Bill would be proud of that one." Zoey concluded, admiring her work.

"GI Jane." Nick grumbled, hoisting himself to a seated position and pulled out his pistols, his awareness slowly returning to him. "Open the door and they will focus on it, otherwise they will start coming in through the windows."

Zoey nodded and whipped the door open to kneel. "Nick?" She called loudly, hoping to be heard over the ringing in his head.

"Molotov's are a waste of beer..." He babbled, leaning his skull back against the wall.

"Nick!"

"What?!"

"I'm so-"

"Oh shit, don't apologize. Most of it is true."

"I'm sorry anyway."

Nick grunted, "Don't worry about it, princess."

Rochelle stood above Zoey at the door with her AK ready to fire. "You think those two heard the shots?"

Zoey smirked, "I don't know about Ellis but Francis can't be stopped." Together they opened fire.

* * *

Ellis decided inside of ten minutes, again, that Francis was probably the coolest person he'd ever met, other than Nick of course. He was massively tall, gruff, used to be unbelievably buff, had tattoo sleeves, and drove a sweet bike. As far as Ellis was concerned, you just didn't get much more awesome than that. Unfortunately for Francis this meant that Ellis had a lot of questions. Strangely though, questions out of Ellis were more like prompts to be able to tell his own stories, he never really was interested in or waited for all that many answers.

"Keith tried to give me a prison style tattoo when we were kids, but then when I found out he had to stab me with a need about a billion times I was fine with just redrawing the sharpie."

Francis groaned internally as they walked around the town quietly, trying not to draw any attention from the infected milling about. If they could get in and out without starting a horde stampede, it would be preferable. Thankfully, Ellis was as much of an expert with hunting zombies as he was telling mind numbingly boring stories. Pausing at a corner, Francis lifted up his arm and pointed to a patch of tattoos.

"I got these two in prison."

Ellis's eyes widened like saucers. "Fricken cool, man! What were you in for?"

"Well..."

"I got arrested once with Keith!"

Rolling his eyes as he peered around the corner, Francis jumped back when a couple infected noticed him and came running into the alleyway. Without a thought, Ellis took out his machete and decapitated them both with two quick strokes of his blade and put it away before the bodies hit the ground. Impressed, Francis stood up straight and crossed his arms, deciding he would bite. "Ok, you got me, what did you get arrested for?"

Ellis was genuinely surprised he wanted to know. "Well, it wasn't really anything big. Keith had an unpaid parking ticket. We knew the sheriff so he booked us both when I told him I wanted a real life mug shot. He said it was a slow night."

Francis snorted and laughed out loud. Ellis was hilarious. "Did you at least get a good one?"

"Yeah! I put it up as my facebook picture!"

"You smiled, didn't you?" Francis asked, leading the way down the street. Ellis looked around, pulling out his pistols and hurried after him.

"Aren't you supposed to?"

Looking back, Francis paused and nodded. There was no way he could crush his dreams with the truth. "Yep."

"I knew it! Keith said you're supposed to look angry or drunk and that I looked like a moron."

Ducking into an open door, Francis and Ellis cleared the room and waited by the door as they looked further down the street. There were a few bars at the end and there seemed to be a tangle of vehicles present, hopefully with at least two usable bikes.

Francis considered Ellis for a second. "So where is Keith?"

Ellis dropped his arms to the side, genuinely surprised the question even graced his lips. No one had ever asked about Keith and most of the time when he told his stories people just told him to shut up. He was pretty sure Nick was convinced Keith didn't exist. Ellis stumbled over his words, trying to shove down the welling grief. He would NOT cry in front of another dude.

"He's dead." He said quietly. Francis lowered his weapon, checking for more infected outside the door before turning back.

"How?"

Ellis's voice was hollow as he continued. "We tricked out a truck to go kill zombies. That day I saw my first tank, Keith saw his last. The piece of shit flipped us over and started pounding. Keith squirmed out the window when he realized we were going to be crushed to death. He took off running down the street yelling and throwing shit at the tank and it chased after him... I really don't want to talk about it anymore."

"More than your friend, huh?" Francis asked, not really happy with the fact he had become the defacto therapist. Ellis adjusted the hat on his head nervously.

"My cousin. Grandma raised us together so he was more like my brother." He explained. Francis merely nodded, taking the spare time to make sure his shotgun was fully loaded.

"How about we go shoot some vampires? It will make you feel better."

Ellis smiled sadly. "You know what? It usually does."

"Same here."

"You lost family too?"

Francis paused as he was about to head out the door. "Life is one big clusterfuck of losing people, Ellis. The challenge is being brave enough afterward to let someone new in close enough to matter."

"Have you?"

Francis looked out the door again as he spoke. "It's easier to be a coward..." He began, trailing off as he scouted the streets.

"But?"

Smiling cryptically, Francis checked back once more. "But sometimes my best efforts fail and I end up liking people anyway. Let's roll out, hayseed."

Ellis followed him out the door down the street to the bars, strangely silent as they moved. Deep in thought, he realized he was the direct opposite of Francis. Ellis clung to those around him in his insecurity and fear of loneliness. He'd never backed off of anyone long enough to figure out if they actually wanted to be around him... or even if he actually wanted them around.

"Francis." Ellis whispered as they climbed through the graveyard of vehicles.

"Huh?"

"I'm gonna find a way to make money shooting zombies and get rich, you wanna start a business?"

Stuffing down a chuckle, Francis looked at the young man's deadly serious face and nodded. In the bright young hazel eyes, he swore he saw flashes of his own brother. "Sure."

Coming to a line of about four downed bikes tangled with each other, Francis strapped on his gun and looked around before carefully starting to pull one up by the handle bars. Ellis stood at alert, his rifle at the ready. The leathery infected seemed to have a hard time spotting them, probably due to their dried out eyeballs being of no further use. However, it was usually the smell that attracted them, the smell of...

"Shit!" Francis hissed, clutching his hand to his stomach having sliced it open on a bit of twisted steel. Ellis swallowed hard.

"Oh damn, cover that shit up fast, man!" He whispered frantically, noticing the infected pausing in their wandering circles. Inhuman groans and grunts began to pick up in intensity as one by one, they started walking towards the fresh blood. "They're like damn sharks! I'll buy you some time."

Picking up the cloth Francis had used to mop up some blood, Ellis waved it in the air and started moving as quickly as he could in a crouched position. Not about to waste such a dangerous maneuver, Francis wrapped his hand up with gauze then hauled the bikes up and started running them towards the closest alleyway. Knocking the gas tanks, he did a once over on each of the two bikes, mostly positive they would start, assuming the batteries weren't totally drained.

Ellis still ran about, playing matador with the blood rag. Stiff from time in the sun, the infected didn't move half as fast as fresh ones, but they still had the ability to swarm.

Gunshots rang out in the still air. Francis bounded out of the alley and made eye contact with Ellis across the street who also wondered where the shots had come from. It took all of a split second for both realize the sound came from the other party.

Francis's adrenaline set into overdrive and he started to run when the howl of a hunter stopped him in his tracks. Spinning in a wild circle, he searched for the black mass flying to tackle him to the ground. Nothing came, but he remembered Ellis had the bloody cloth. Francis turned just in time to see the black shadow pounce the young man to the ground. Taking off in a sprint, he aimed his shotgun and unloaded a couple rounds that just winged the demon zombie as it wrestled the spry young man to a position where it could gut him. Pulling the trigger for the third time he heard a strange click.

"Jammed?!" Francis roared , heaving the derelict gun at the hunter, stunning it just enough to keep it from slashing Ellis open. With two more hard steps he leapt and tackled the creature off of the young man, pulling out one of his pistols as they tumbled.

After rolling for a fast second the hunter was back on its feet and it lurched at Francis, laying one claw deep into his left pectoral muscle. Furious, Francis grabbed the claw, pulled back his pistol and whipped the beast to the ground. Scrambling back to his feet, Ellis placed one rifle shot into the hunter's chest, and it crumpled in a heap. However, there was no time for relief as the panic had just begun.

"Zoey!" Francis gasped, jumping to his feet to taking off running down the road. He entirely ignored the pain and the blood as he moved. Ellis was hot on his heels and as they ran by doors and windows infected wandered out of the buildings onto the street, enlivened by the spilt lifeblood dripping on the concrete as they passed.

Cutting around the corner, they came upon a small horde swarming the building they left the other three at. Pulling out both pistols Francis opened fire as he walked, as did Ellis by his side with his rifle. Quickly, the swarm fell, revealing the open door where Zoey and Rochelle waited, lowering their weapons in surprise at the sight of their rescuers.

Focusing beyond the two men for a second, Zoey noticed the road behind them was moving. She clenched her jaw then started jumping and waving.

"GET IN HERE!"

Francis and Ellis shared a quick surprised look and slowly turned back to see the wave of infected stumbling their way. Wasting no time, they took off for the open door. Once inside, Rochelle slid the lock into place. Francis and Ellis moved some waiting room furniture to barricade the door.

"This is what we were trying to avoid, wasn't it?" Ellis asked with a nervous laugh then turned to Nick. "Holy crap, what happened to you?"

"Charger." Rochelle answered for him as the Italian still labored to make the room stop spinning.

Zoey rushed up to Francis, pulling out some of the gauze they had been sent to fetch in the first place.

"You're hurt!" She said with bit more concern than she wanted to emote. Blood was making his vest stick to his chest, and he could feel it trickling down his front. Francis grabbed her hands gently and nodded in the direction of the window.

"First things first."

Glaring like he was exercising a particularly large amount of stupid, she peeled the vest off of him.

"You're absolutely right. The bleeding needs to stop." Pulling down the front of his undershirt, she grimaced, there was nothing she could really do without sutures except cover it. "Hunter?" Francis nodded. Rolling up a large amount of gauze she pressed it against the wound and taped it on, then helped him back into his vest.

"Thanks." He grunted and assumed a position beside one of the windows and watched the infected approach. Cursing his jammed shotgun for the second time, he pulled out his pistols as Zoey saddled up beside him with her rifle. Nick, Rochelle, and Ellis, split the two other windows.

"Get ready, things are about to get damn ugly." Ellis warned and pulled the trigger.


	11. Darkness Falls

Dun dun duuuun. Thanks for being patient and enjoy! :)**  
**

**Chapter 10: Darkness Falls**

Bill the dog laid quietly at Louis's feet, inhaling and exhaling at a steady pace while he napped. Like all dogs, he was a happy sleeper as long as he had a warm space and someone to keep him company, so until he found his new pack, he hadn't slept that well in what seemed like forever... to the dog. Dreams of slow, fat squirrels and an endless world of new smells greeted him every time he closed his wide brown eyes, making sleep one of his million favorite things.

That afternoon's dream however was not going well. An echoing off in the distance grew louder until it forced him awake, just as he was about to catch that awful squirrel. Perking up his ears he gazed with narrowing pupils towards the door, drawing a questioning glance from the darker toned human.

The echoing sounded again, but was only discernable by Bill's hyper sensitive ears. He knew that sound, it was the boom of the deaths sticks the humans liked to carry, but it was miles away. Jumping up to his feet, Bill trotted over to the window and reared up to place his paws on the broken windowsill. Sniffing the air, he picked up the bright scent trails of the big human that became his alpha that day in the woods, and his favorite human, the female with the endless pets, loves, and treats. The booms sounded again from the direction his humans had gone. Sniffing the air again, he sensed something else from that far away place with his non-quantified sense.

Fear. The humans were in trouble.

"What is it, Bill?" The nice human asked, walking over from his high sitting platform. The dog's hair stood on end and he began growling out the window. Looking up at the darker human Bill whined, but his warning only earned him a pet. That would not be good enough. The last human Bill protected ignored his whine too and was eaten by the carcasses. Bill was not going to allow anymore of his humans to die.

Pushing off the window, Bill scratched at the door and started barking, the hair standing at attention on his spinal ridge.

The nice human got angry and told him to lay down, but he would not relent and started barking louder and more frantically. Finally the human flung open the door, just wanting Bill to shut up, but the dog was grateful and would thank him later, maybe bring him a nice stick, or a dead squirrel.

Bill took off like a rocket down the street, following the scent stream of his people. The booms and fear sense grew stronger with each step. By the recurring sounds they were at least ten miles away. He'd get there as fast as his paws could carry him. Thanks to all the tasty human treats and naps, he would make quick work of the journey.

Back at the store Louis and Coach stared out the door as the dog disappeared down the street.

"What the hell you think got into him?" Coach asked, scratching his head.

"I have no damn idea, but I really hope it's not what my gut is telling me."

"What's that?"

"They're in trouble."

* * *

"Fuckin hell!" Ellis cried, swinging the butt of his empty rifle at a gaping mouth of an infected as it tried to take a bit out of him.

"I don't know how much longer we can stay here!" Rochelle yelled, strapping on her AK in favor of her axe. Taking a few massive swings she cut back a few infected and looked to Nick with wild fear as he reloaded his M16. Stepping back up to the window he let the automatic mow a path through the leathery beasts. They didn't even splat anymore. Their insides were as dried out as their skin.

"We need a building with some serious security!" Nick yelled, handing off his weapon to Rochelle as his vertigo from the concussion got the best of him.

"Hey!" Francis yelled, reloading his sidearms as Zoey covered the window. "I thought I saw a C.B. coming into town!"

Nick picked up Rochelle's axe, swinging at a few infected coming in Ellis's window as the country boy slammed home another clip. If Francis was telling the truth, it was the best news they heard all day. "Are you positive?"

"Yeah! But I don't have my picks!" Francis replied with a yelp of pain as an infected took a swipe and punched his hunter wound.

Nick backed off the window and patted dow n his pants, then rolled his eyes at himself. He never kept that shit in his pants! Bending over, and nearly falling face first into the ground, he pulled up his pant leg and unstrapped the small leather pouch from his ankle holster.

"Got mine!" Nick cried in triumph, standing up too fast. With his sense of balance out of whack, he toppled right back into a shelf. Thankfully he held onto the pouch and slipped it into a more accessible pocket.

At her window Zoey snarled as she struck and shot the creatures trying their very best to get in at a fresh meal. In agony Francis had stepped back after the hit from the infected opened up his wound and he bled through the wad of bandages she'd taped on earlier.

"Francis!" Zoey choked, taking a hit on the shoulder. Turning back to the window she cleared her view with a barrage of pistol fire.

"I'm fine! Keep your eyes on the damn vampires!" He replied, forcing himself to pick up again and ignore the pain. Each time he fired his pistols, a new jolt of searing pain flared through his very core.

Nick pulled himself back to his feet and stumbled over to Francis.

"You need to lead the way! I can't even stay on my fucking feet! This place has a second level, we can go out the roof!"

Francis nodded looking around for Zoey's pack, he spotted it in the corner and opened it up. Aside from the plethora of medical supplies she just confiscated from the small clinic, there was her ever present stash of explosives and incendiaries. "That's my girl!" He laughed and pulled out one of Louis's pipe bombs.

"What?" Zoey asked over her shoulder, while she popped about ten infected as they all tried to stick their heads in the window at once. Francis walked over to her and helped her strap on her pack as she fired away.

"Get ready to run." He informed her, tightening the straps. Turning back to the group he bellowed out his plan. "I'm gonna toss this bomb, when the freaks run after it, follow me upstairs!"

Pulling up his pistols one more time, he quickly unloaded his clips into Zoey's window, clearing a path wide enough to see the sky. Arming and giving the bomb a good toss, he pulled Zoey with him as he flew towards the stairs, trying to ignore the nearly debilitating pain in his chest. Too engrossed in the retreat neither he or Zoey noticed the fresh stream of blood steadily dripping off of him to the ground.

Rochelle followed behind Francis and Zoey. Nick and Ellis were hot on her tail, with Ellis providing the balance Nick needed to move. They shut the doors as they ran until they were at the top of the stairs and climbed out the windows to stand on the rooftops.

In the open air Francis abruptly keeled over with his hands on his knees as he labored for air, but kept his eyes level and searched for their target. At the end of the street Francis saw the unmistakable sign.

"Countrywide... Bank!" He gasped, pointing. "That way!"

Zoey leaned over beside him, placing her hand on his back. She'd never seen Francis out of breath on more than a couple rare occasions, once when he outran a tank for about ten minutes. All he'd done now was climb stairs. The only reason he'd be out of breath after that was if enough oxygen wasn't reaching his body by means of blood loss. Judging by the way his face was losing color it was more than a possibility.

Zoey looked down to see a steady flow of blood dripping off the ends of his vest. The liquid had soaked through his undershirt, which as she pulled back the vest, was completely red down the front.

"Oh... no..."

Rochelle saw this as well and swallowed hard. She was the only one not preoccupied with a injured person or injured herself. It was up to her to lead the way.

"You heard the man! Let's go!" She ordered with practiced authority.

Ellis and Zoey nodded and tried their best to steer their dependents along the rooftops. Rochelle navigated the easiest possible route, picking off any infected climbing up the sides of the buildings as she ran ahead.

Just as they were about to reach the last building, the sickening cough of a smoker was barely audible below the roof line. Ellis turned to locate and fire, but did not do so fast enough. His ankle was snared and falling with a thud, he was dragged towards the edge of the roof, clawing at the tile with no luck. Nick did the only thing he could. Dropping straight to the roof to avoid falling on accident, he leapt from his knees to tackle Ellis's legs, pulling out his handy Org issued buck knife and cut the tongue.

Ellis quickly sprung back to his feet and ran to the edge of the roof just in time to spot the bullfrog zombie and pull the trigger before it could turn the corner. Watching it explode in a cloud noxious fumes, Nick cheered from the deck of the roof. "Smoke on that you stinky bastard!"

Ellis lowered the rifle, face momentarily twisted in the deadly glint he often hid for the sake of the others. Every time he pulled the trigger, in his heart, it was for Keith, however he couldn't waste any time muddling in his revenge, there were living people depending on him. Scurrying over to Nick, he quickly helped him to his feet. "How long is your head gonna be screwed up, man?"

"I don't know! Traumatic brain injury isn't a frequent thing for me, Ellis!"

"Nice shot." Francis wheezed in appreciation, drawing yet another concerned look from his leaning post.

"Thanks!" Ellis chirped.

"Don't you dare die on me, I'm liking this longer hair." Zoey whispered, drawing a wry but silent smile to his face.

Rochelle sprinted and led them to the edge of the last roof. "Ok, we just need to get down!"

"Fire escape." Ellis offered, pulling up beside her with Nick. "I'll go first. Nick, you fall on me, I'm gonna be cross with you."

"I'm fine as long as I have something to hold onto." Nick snipped following Ellis down the ladder.

Zoey paused as Rochelle motioned for them to go. Looking up at Francis she frowned.

"Can you do this?"

"Of course." He winced in pride, taking his arm off Zoey's shoulders. With one step forward he wavered, utterly exhausted and nauseous as the world spun around him. She frowned and resumed her position under his arm.

"Rochelle, go ahead. He needs a second."

Rochelle understood and quickly descended the ladder.

"Come on! Let's go!" Nick's voice echoed from the alleyway.

"Shut up! We're coming!" Zoey snapped. Francis clumsily started down the ladder one slow step at a time and she watched his every movement in abject paranoia. W_hat if he falls? Oh God, please, God, please don't let him fall..._ When he'd descended enough, she holstered her pistols and started down. "You stay with me now!"

He replied tiredly, looking up. "Why would I go anywhere with this view?"

"That's right! You just keep looking up at my ass and stay conscious!" Zoey heard laughter and her face flared red in fury. "Whoever the hell is laughing, I'm gonna gut you when I get down there!"

"It.. it wasn't us!" Rochelle yelled up, her hesitant tone draining the blood from Zoey's face.

_Jockey._

"No!" Zoey hissed and jerked her head skyward. At the same second that little face humper jumped down with that horrid, gleeful cackle. It landed on her back, gripping her shoulders with its clawed feet, but thanks to the straps of the pack, they didn't pierce skin. Snarling, Zoey gripped the ladder with her legs and desperately tried to shake the horrible creature. A claw grazed her scalp and she cried out. Below, the other three yelled to try and get the little zombie's attention, since they didn't have a clear shot to kill it. With a good grip on her hair, it didn't want to let go, but with so much on the line, Zoey wasn't in a fatalistic mood.

"GET THE HELL-" With her free hand she reached down to her right side pistol, pulled it up and fired three shots into the mass of the creature. "-OFF OF ME!" In its dying cry the jockey yanked hard on Zoey one last time, dislodging her from the ladder. Tumbling backwards she felt weightlessness and knew in the depths of her soul, that was not a fall she would survive. Flailing her arms, she tried to gain purchase on absolutely anything.

_I'm not ready... I'm not ready to die..._

The jockey hit the pavement in the alley with a sickening thud, followed by Zoey's now ruined pistol, and a few small locks of her torn hair, but the woman did not hit ground. Following a wrenching halt, her shoulders jolted in the hold of the pack straps as she stared down at what would have been her demise.

"What?!" She gasped in shock as her body swayed lightly in the air, did her pack miraculously catch on something? Slapping her face when a tickle on her cheek caught her attention, she drew her hand back and saw the deep red liquid. Above her his distressed voice froze her veins.

"I can't... hold you anymore..."

Snapping her head up, Zoey saw her emergency parachute. One hand death gripped the ladder and the other shakily held the handle of her pack while blood trickled unheeded from his tearing wounds. Anguish rippled across his face.

"Oh shit! Francis! Hold on!" Spinning around she clamped onto the ladder and started back down. "Follow me!"

Safely on solid ground all four people caught Francis as he nearly toppled down the last several rungs of the ladder. Tremors racked his large body and his face was disturbingly pale.

"We're almost there!" Rochelle encouraged them, pulling out her weapon. "We just need to cross the street!"

"I need to open the doors. Ellis, let's go!" Nick barked, infuriated he still hadn't recovered his balance. Ellis nodded firmly and he guided Nick off at a sprint.

"Go!" Zoey yelled at Rochelle when she hesitated, pointing for her to head to the bank. "We'll need cover fire!"

Rochelle took off across the street, using her pistols on anything that got too close. Groans of stumbling infected picked up in intensity as the horde continued to shift in their direction, at least too distracted at the moment to go after Francis and Zoey.

"Just me and you now." Zoey breathed, getting a better grip around his waist.

"Promise?" He gasped. Zoey smiled sadly and they began their stumble across the street. Rochelle and Ellis sniped anything that came close, keeping their path clear. The infected were closing in on the door as Nick worked with the picks. Zoey's heart sped in anticipation. With each step she used sheer force of will to steer her heavy companion forward. The 50 feet felt like miles.

A shriek tore through the air like an eagle swooping and circling its kill. Zoey's blood ran cold and hot tears of futility blurred her vision. "No! No! It's not fair! We're so close! Not that! Please!"

The shriek sounded again. The hunter had picked its target, and it was planning on a slow moving two for one.

Ellis roared in frustration. He'd seen the hunter mid air as it jumped between buildings and used up his last round... just to miss the shot. Rochelle's weapons also clicked empty. There was only one other chance. In a panic she picked up her axe, took a deep breath and began sprinting through the shambling infected towards her friends, praying she'd reach them before the hunter.

Zoey reacted purely out of instinct. Swiping Francis's leg from beneath him, he hit the ground and she dove over his body to cover him. He might not survive another hit, but she knew at the very least, she could afford to take some damage. Maybe in that time, help would arrive.

Like a bird of prey descending from the skies, the hunter leapt straight for her meal, claws extended and aching for the soft flesh just yards, feet, inches...

A second feral snarl sounded as a flash of black and tan intercepted and tackled the acrobatic zombie from the air just as it was about to tear open Zoey's back.

The pair tumbled, and fought, but the fight wasn't going in the direction most would have imagined. While the hunter was a mutated human relying on the instincts of early humans to hunt, it had nothing on the beastly instinct that lived with in every dog defending its territory. They hadn't even rolled to a stop before the dog clamped like a vice on the neck of the infected and surging beneath a wave of instinctual drive, tore it's throat clear out. The hunter's claws twitched momentarily then fell still, having been unable to gain any purchase in the thick and plush scruff of the dog's neck.

Realizing she wasn't yet dead, Zoey opened her clenched eyes to see Rochelle standing with mouth agape, her axe by her side. Zoey cranked her head in the direction of the other woman's stare and watched as the dog tore the life out of the pouncing zombie, then promptly trotted toward with a bloody, happy grin.

"Bill?!" Zoey, yelped in confusion. She was sure they had left him with Louis!

"That is one damn good dog!" Ellis yelled over the furor, going after the encroaching infected with his machete. "But we should really move!"

Scrambling off Francis, Zoey hugged the animal with all her might, burying her face in the thick fur around his neck. Sighing in relief she jumped up to help haul Francis back to his feet.

"Come on! I got you, you're going to be alright! Let's get you back on your feet!"

Infected were closing in faster than Ellis could hack them up and they needed to get inside. Dazed, Francis peered down at Zoey. He was having a hard time keeping his wits about him, and just wanted to lay down to sleep. If he could just get some rest he'd be ready to go again... or so he thought. The world was spinning, and he barely clung onto the fear based adrenaline pushing him towards the open door. His limbs were growing so heavy that he was nearly leaning entirely on her.

"I'm... I'm in bad shape." Francis breathed as they made it through the door into the marble floored lobby. The bank was large and empty, clearly having been locked up tight upon the ordered evacuation. Streams of light filtered through the high-up windows, catching on the dust particulate stirred up by the visitors. Coming to a bench in the middle of the rotunda, Zoey nearly flung Francis onto it, her body crying out in fatigue. She knew he was heavy, but holy shit. Collapsing next to him, trying to suck oxygen into her lungs, she steadied him with her free hand.

"Oh... oh my gosh. Just sit here a minute..."

The dog followed them steadfastly and sat before Francis as he leaned his elbows on his knees, trying not to outright collapse. Reaching out a trembling hand, he scratched the dog behind the ears. Leaning happily into the affection, Bill opened his mouth and panted softly.

"Good dog, Bill. " He smiled weakly. _You old fucking fart... thanks for saving our asses again. _

Ellis whistled long and loudly after helping Nick close and secure the heavy metal door. "I don't think a damn thing's been touched in here."

"Of course not, they locked it down on evac." Nick explained, weaving his way through the desks and offices as if he'd worked there his whole life. "Plus they built these damn things like Fort Knox, so those scarecrows won't be getting in anytime soon."

"Food's in back, so is emergency power." Francis rasped.

"Oh yeah." Nick thought, and snapped his fingers.

"You two been here before?" Ellis asked suspiciously.

Nick and Francis shared a grimace, and Nick replied shortly. "All Countrywide Bank branches are designed the same for, uh, security reasons."

"Odd thing for a coupla guys like you to know. You sure ain't bankers."

Francis cleared his throat, directing his response to Zoey, whose eyes had taken on a disturbing darkness. She was reminded once again of that 'business relationship' Nick had alluded to earlier... and that Francis had neglected to tell her about altogether.

"Look, hayseed. There's a lot of things we were and were not, but that does not mean that is who we are and are not. Right now, we're just..." He paused as vertigo struck him. The lights were starting to go out.

Zoey looked away angrily, fidgeting with her rifle. "Thieves..."

Francis lunged forward off the bench as the world began to spin. "Grunts..." He countered, forcing his eyes open at her. She seemed so far away and her voice echoed inside his head. Weightlessness overcame him and he noticed Zoey's irritation shift to panic as she lunged toward him in slow motion.

He didn't feel it when he hit the floor.

Zoey fell to her knees beside him. "Francis!" She yelled, tapping his cheek. Pushing his vest off she saw just how much blood they were dealing with. She knew he'd been bleeding, but she didn't realize all that commotion on the ladder had torn his wounds even further open. "Don't you dare die! I need to scream at you later!"

Rochelle sped over with Ellis and they dropped to his other side. Luckily Zoey still had her bag of loot and pulled the pack off her shoulders. They needed to stitch him up and stop the bleeding or he wouldn't be walking out in the morning.

"Damn, that's a lot of blood. I didn't know he got hit that bad." Ellis assessed dryly, pulling out and opening his little pocket knife. "He's a big damn guy, without Nick we're not going to be able to lift him up on the counter." Ellis cut away at the ruined undershirt, removing the pieces setting them off to the side.

Rochelle and Zoey aimed an irritated glare at the man in the white pants. He held up his hands defensively. "Hey! I can't even walk a straight line yet!"

"Do something useful then!" Zoey barked.

"Like what?!"

"FIND SOME BLANKETS OR TURN ON THE EMERGENCY POWER!" Zoey roared and pointed a finger at him with a fury that received no further complaint.

"Yeesh." Nick grunted, making his way back into the guts of the building. There was an emergency closet back there somewhere.

"He's gonna be pissed about his vest getting all bloody." Zoey mumbled, attempting levity.

"I don' think that's our biggest problem." Rochelle said slowly, mopping up blood off his chest with some gauze then traced the wounds down to the top of his abdomen. "Hit gut may have been pierced."

Zoey scowled, she hadn't seen that.

Above them, emergency lights flickered to life, bringing much needed light to the procedure. Noticing Zoey squinting, Rochelle turned on a light on her pistol and lit her target.

Splashing disinfectant on her hands Zoey tried desperately to remember some of the extra bits she read out of the field procedure manual during her time in the liquor store in Pennsylvania, as well as Bill's emergency wisdom. Pouring more disinfectant over his lowest wound she saw where the claw mark ended just past the apex of his ribs, where the hard shell of his ribcage had no protective reach. Sliding her fingers down the gash, she swallowed hard and plunged them into the wound, detached from the reality of what she was doing.

"You're lucky I've had practice on Louis." Zoey mumbled, gently prodding the depths of the wound, searching for a hole. Ellis and Rochelle both choked and looked away, but the slopping sounds of blood and flesh were unavoidable.

Feeling around with her eyes shut she searched for a puncture past his viscera into his abdominal cavity. Sure she had searched each millimeter, Zoey sighed in relief. While the wound was deep and no doubt filled with nasty bacteria, none of it had penetrated through into the most tender part of his body. Everything was intact, even if he was bleeding profusely. Thankfully she at least knew how to stop a leak.

"Thank God. The claw didn't go through his muscle. His organs aren't compromised."

"That's great, can you pull your hands out of his stomach now... before I puke?" Ellis asked, his face a shade of green.

"I just said I'm not in his stomach. We need water." Zoey said suddenly, looking to Ellis. "Can you manage that?"

"Yes I can."

Ellis took off and Zoey looked to Rochelle. "Would you mind getting a suture kit together, the dissolvable thread first?"

"Sure thing, Sweetie."

Rochelle gathered the supplies, watching Zoey as she diverted her attention back and forth between Francis's wound and his face. With each passing second, Zoey's detachment turned to worry. She wasn't a doctor after all and had no formal training in such matters. Rochelle smiled softly, realizing what she'd secretly been hoping against since she first met Zoey and her friends back at the bridge. That wasn't just the face of a worried friend. Her little crush on the boisterous biker would have to be shelved.

"You really care about him, don't you?"

Zoey perked up and looked to her, flushing and stuttering. "I... I..." Gathering her thoughts, she tried again, focusing on Francis's nose to be sure the air coming and going wasn't slowing down. "He's a jerky idiot at times, but he's my jerky idiot, you know?"

Rochelle chuckled knowingly at Zoey. Francis hadn't been the only crush she'd developed over the last few months. She had always had a soft spot for bad boys, even if they always ended up smashing her heart in a million pieces. It wasn't that she didn't like nice guys, they'd just never made enough of a compelling argument to catch her attention. "I do. My jerky idiot is stumbling around back there like a drunk sailor. At least yours knows how you feel."

Zoey furrowed her brow. "Why do you say that?"

"He's been holding onto you since you dropped next to him. Didn't let go even when he blacked out."

Zoey's eyes widened and she whipped her head down. Sure enough, Francis's hand had a solid grip on her pant leg. He'd held onto the chair back in the animal hospital in the same manner when she stitched him then. The big badass thug was afraid, and even in the midst of a blackout he clung to her.

Ellis's heavy boots resounded as he came running around the corner with an unopened five gallon water jug from a water cooler. Ellis popped the cap off the jug then stood over the group, awaiting direction. "Ready."

Zoey cleared her throat and got back to business. "Pour it slowly, starting up here and make your way down until most of the blood is gone." Zoey directed, not moving as the water gently splashed onto her pants. As it rinsed away most of the blood, the full length and depth of the claw marks were clear. In the deepest ravines splotches of white glinted off the light for the briefest second as the stream passed by revealing the bone of his ribs.

Washing her hands off to the side in the water stream, she disinfected them once more and took the readied sutures from Rochelle. Pouring more disinfectant in the wounds Zoey set to work first repairing the severed muscles. Tense minutes passed as blood refilled the wounds and required rinsing a few more times. Laying suture after endless suture she was just nearing the last internal stitch when Francis's entire body shuddered.

He was awake.

"Shit! Shit!" Zoey hissed, snapping her head over to see the petrified shock on Francis's face. He was using every single ounce of self control he had not to start screaming outright. Tears of pain streamed out the corners of his eyes.

"Damnit!" Ellis cursed and quickly set down the jug of water. Taking off his belt, he slid off his holsters and folded over the leather strap twice. Kneeling by Francis's head he held it out over his face. "Bite this or you'll crack the damn teeth right out of your head." Francis opened his mouth and Ellis shoved the leather bit in as far as he would take it.

Knowing it was time to act, Zoey forced herself to absorb his fear as she addressed him. "I need to continue. I'm sorry, we don't have any numbing agent this time."

Nodding in understanding his hand gripped her pant leg even tighter, then he closed his eyes, sinking his teeth into the leather belt. Trying her best to suppress her own shaking, Zoey took a deep breath and started sewing the skin back together at a much faster pace, shifting to work at the skin level. With each tiny puncture, Francis's muffled cries echoed in the empty rotunda.

On direction, Ellis picked up the jug again, his usual jovial expression grim and serious. It was when he poured the water to cleanse the area that Francis screamed the most. He apologized out loud every single time he tipped the jug.

Rochelle stayed by Zoey, handing her the sterile supplies as fast as they were requested, refusing to let her squeamishness get the best of her. How Zoey was able to maintain her calm was beyond her, Francis's distress was enough to make her want to run and hide, and would no doubt be the stuff of her nightmares for months to come. She wished it would go faster, but nearly an hour ticked by as Zoey meticulously laid about 125 sutures on the four deep claw marks.

When the last stitch had been set, she wiped her forehead and smiled. "There, it doesn't look so bad now. Just gotta clean you up and share some blood."

Francis nodded vigorously, eyes wide and wild. Not yet ready to spit out the bit, he knew what cleaning meant. Just to make sure there was no more blood loss Ellis poured one more round of water to leave nothing but the black thread sutures along the swollen seams of flesh. There was one last round of disinfectant. As she gently patted away the remaining blood with the disinfectant soaked cloth, Francis wished he could pass out just one more time, even willing to sustain a head injury in the process.

Once she dropped the wet cloth and started patting the skin dry with a moist cloth, he spit out the belt.

"That... sucked." Francis rasped, throat raw from the closed-mouth screaming, then laid his head back on the cold wet concrete. He was still so very tired with all that blood loss, and his limbs felt like lead weights.

Zoey sighed and began taping on the sterile bandage material to keep the new stitches clean. "I thought I wasn't going to have to close any more holes on you."

"If wishes were fishes..." Ellis sighed, kneeling beside Rochelle and aiming one of his disarming smiles at the incapacitated man. "I'm really sorry about the water torture."

Francis smirked wryly and patted Ellis's arm. "Hopefully I won't have to return the favor." He replied, his teeth beginning to chatter. As his adrenaline faded, his body started to shudder from exposure to the cold wet floor, utterly unable to regulate his temperature.

Nick appeared out of an office door, the majority of his concussion effects starting to fade. He was stable for the most part as he walked out with an emergency blanket. His face was rather pale as he'd spent most of the last hour watching and listening to the torture session from the door.

"Here." He said quietly, handing off the blanket to Rochelle then stood at Francis's head. "Come on, Ell. Can't let Zoey's handiwork go to waste and have him die of pneumonia." Ellis nodded and stood beside Nick.

"Wait." Zoey said, holding up her hand. Reaching down she helped Francis the rest of the way out of his vest. "No point in getting the blanket wet and bloody."

Francis was too tired, cold, and in too much pain to argue. When he was free, Nick and Ellis leaned over, each grabbing once of Francis's arms and together they hauled him to his feet. He felt like he'd been raised from the dead. Once he was up and the world stopped spinning, Francis compulsively looked down at the mess he was just pulled up out of. Zoey remained on her knees, looking up at him with the anguished expression he'd come to hate. Once again, she was covered in his blood, but this time she was also sitting before the red stained remnants of his shirt and the blood soaked husk that looked more like a corpse than his old vest, maybe even an exorcised demon. At that moment he knew it was time to let go of it. All of it, the vest, his history... the past. There was no reason to hold onto things that were useless. Just like all the money in the bank, it was worthless. It was just a thing, a security blanket he'd clung to for years.

Seeing his weary expression turn to a very particular kind of revulsion when it settled on his vest, Zoey leaned forward to try and peel the wet leather off the ground, but his voice stapled her in place.

"NO." He said louder than intended. "I mean, don't bother. I don't want it."

Zoey nearly fell over. Maybe he had a fever. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Stiffly rising to her feet, Zoey wiped the remaining blood off his trembling chest and back, then Rochelle placed the blanket over his shoulders. Zoey pulled the soft cotton tight around him, thankful as the guys held him up on his feet, stringing his arms around their shoulders in order to carry him. With the exhaustion from the procedure, he couldn't do it on his own. In fact, without their help at all, he probably would have died in that puddle. Of course, they wouldn't have had to go out and get bikes in the first place, but he was too wiped out to argue semantics.

Francis scoffed in his thoughts. _Prayers answered again_. _I don't know why you like me all of a sudden, God, but don't let me stop doin whatever the hell that is._

"Uh, thanks, everyone." Francis mumbled under his breath.

Nick smirked, shifting his grip. "I'm sorry, what was that, I didn't hear it. Repeat it louder for my old ears."

"You ain't gonna hear it again, Colonel Turdpants!" Francis snapped.

Ellis chuckled, checking off a small victory. "I told you, Nick." He'd been having the same argument with Nick since they first met up in Savannah.

"IT'S NOT A TURD!"

"Then what is it, and why ain't you cleaned it off yet?" Francis countered.

"I will drop you, I swear!" Nick snapped.

Zoey sighed in relief as the men bickered. There was simply no doubt at that point, for either her or Francis that they were keeping their new friends for good. Rochelle's arm wrapped around her shoulders and she gave Zoey a friendly squeeze.

"You did great." Rochelle grinned. "I almost passed out, but you did great."

Zoey smirked and raised an eyebrow. Rochelle was so sweet, friendly, and... positive, she was practically another Louis. "You know... if it wasn't completely racist, I'd think you and Louis were related."

Laughing, Rochelle squeezed her shoulder again. "Why's that?"

"You two are the nicest people I've ever known."

"I suppose that can't be a bad thing." Rochelle thought aloud.

"When shit like this I want clone you both about thirty times over."

"Oooh, I don't think that would be a good idea." Rochelle countered with a grimace.

"Why?"

"If I was a twin, I'd be the evil one. I'd scratch that bitch's eyes out." Rochelle finished, making a clawing motion at the air with her free hand. Looking back at Zoey she shrugged and explained. "One of me is enough."

Zoey's eyes nearly bugged out of her head and burst out laughing. _Keepers. They're all keepers._

* * *

As the sun settled down for the night, Louis and Coach pulled away from the door. The others had not yet returned and it didn't look like they would, at least that evening.

Sitting down back behind the counter, Louis crossed his arms and frowned.

"What's up son?" Coach intoned.

"As much as I want to trust them, I don't."

Coach raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Francis is good on his own. Zoey is good on her own, but when you put those two idiots together, they actually try to out-moron each other. It's like his thoughts corrupt her brainwaves and they just... blah. I should have gone with."

Coach laughed heartily and poured Louis a bowl of the chili he'd been cooking up for the larger group. Setting a small bag of chips on the counter with a spoon and warm soda, Coach poured his own bowl and pulled up another stool.

"Like herding cats." Coach said with affectionate reverence.

"Actually, yeah. That's about right."

"You should see Nick and Ellis when they get going. Apart they're reasonable individuals, but together... I want to strangle the both of them. If it wasn't for Ro, I probably would have already."

Louis shook his head and opened his package of chips, spreading some in his chili. "You think they're alright?"

"Nope." Coach said casually. Louis paused in stirring his food.

"That's pretty cold."

"Nah. If we lost people, the remaining survivors would have left the body and returned. In the world as it is, when someone is injured but will survive, you hole up until they are well enough."

"Yeah." Louis said with a small smile, clicking his prosthetic against the counter. Coach was more than right about that.

"Unless..."

Louis peered up, curious. "Unless what?"

Coach's face turned to stone. "They're all dead."

Louis's eyes widened and nearly popped out of his head.

After waiting a long second, Coach burst into laughter. "Oh, son! You should see your face! I'm just kidding! If you and I can't herd a few cats, those brain-dead zombies have no chance."

"Heh. Yeah." Louis chuckled uncomfortably. _The man is sadistic!_

"Oh, relax a little bit and enjoy yourself." Coach prodded, stirring up his meal. "You always this uptight?"

"Francis thinks so."

"Was your daddy military?"

"Yeah."

"Makes sense. Don't worry about any of them. They haven't made it this far on good looks."

"Maybe Rochelle could have, I mean, uh, dammit... please don't tell her I said that." Louis coughed and quickly stuffed a spoonful of chili into his mouth before he said anymore. Face brightening he swallowed and looked up to see Coach watching his reaction carefully. "This, this is incredible! I haven't tasted anything this good since, well, long before Z-day."

Pleased, coach leaned back on his stool with pride, deciding to shelf Louis's shy comment on his newly adopted sister. "Did what I could with what I had." He said casually, picking up his own bowl and digging in. It always delighted him when people liked his cooking.

"I can't wait to see what you do with fresh ingredients."

"I admire your optimism."

"It's all I got."

Coach tilted his head and considered Louis carefully.

"You don't have faith? Even after surviving this long?"

Louis sighed heavily. "I guess I have faith in my friends to do the right thing."

Coach frowned. "I guess that's a start."

* * *

Nick strolled through the empty bank, idly feeling for his pistols out of habit. He let out a long slow breath, enjoying the hell out of the rare moment of solitude. No Ellis, Rochelle, Coach, or any of those other morons telling him what to do, and no zombies trying to eat him alive. A man could really clear his thoughts with some time alone once in a while. It really tried his patience being forced to live in a group of people. He was accustomed to being the one that handed out orders and made the decisions, but when it came down to it, no one's opinion was worth more than another's. Being the king at the top of the hill was his old life and honestly, he was glad it was over.

He was getting used to being part of team and at the very least he was trying to put the past behind him, but it was difficult when it kept rearing its ugly mug around every corner. While they had run into a couple former 'family' members traveling across the southern states, they were never in the condition to recognize him, let alone pose a threat. Francis was different... Francis was _always_ different. If he could have been nailed down with one thing or another, the Organization would have done it years ago. Problem was, the man was a ghost. No known family or origins. He just appeared one day in the pack back when he and Nick were both teens, angry as a badger with fury like a tornado. All it took was to aim in him in the general direction of your target and he'd leave a path a mile wide. It was a love-hate relationship for the family. They loved his work, but hated his ambiguity.

Nick for the most part just hated him for the resulting hell his presence rendered in his life. Out of the blue he would disappear for a while when it seemed like his rage had been temporarily satisfied, but eventually he would be found or return on his own. No one could figure him out, and as he aged he stopped returning of his own free will, preferring the freedom. Eventually he just became something for the partners to toy with, an amusement. Nick never concerned himself with knowing more about him, or any other grunt, until he was given the unfortunate task of being his babysitter. Of all miserable things it had been that gig that landed him in jail in the first place. Big as he was, Francis was a slippery piece of shit and the last time he went to track him down, Nick got caught in the fray of one of his legendary messes as he slipped out the back door when the police showed up.

Promptly following that came the time in jail for the weapon he was carrying, as well as the stolen car... and various other arrest warrants stretching across 5 states. Seeing as there was no serious murder charges on the docket, the family decided to let him wait it out in the pen. With that show of disinterest, his tenuous loyalty to those people had dissolved, blood relatives or not.

Thankfully, he got out of jail quickly on good behavior. If it hadn't been in the middle of a national emergency he wouldn't have been so lucky. There was no way to contact the family since zombies were probably dining on them, so he decided it was the first day of the rest of his life.

Nick smirked to himself and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Whatever the reason they didn't answer the phones, zombies, FBI, CIA, DEA... he didn't care. After spending a year in prison, he had learned things about himself, one of which was that he didn't want a damn thing to do with them anymore. Getting out of jail just to get back into one was not in the least appealing. Freedom renewed and without as much as a clue of what he was doing, he took off into the chaos of the cannibalistic cadavers and decided to take a page out of Francis's playbook.

As he walked down the hall he regretted nothing but the fact he never thought about doing it earlier.

Interesting thing was, the Francis described and defended by Zoey was not the same bursting keg of fury he knew before. Not only was he with staying with people, this new Francis was actually concerned for their welfare, a quality Nick never believed him to be capable of. Either that or he never cared enough to pay close enough attention. It was a moot point. He was no longer hunting him, and never planned to again unless that gorilla of a man came up with the notion of turning him in.

Nick paused in thought. He wouldn't would he? Even as a tip? "Moron better not." He mumbled and continued moving, shaking his head. It seemed he would have to pay closer attention to his former prey regardless.

Coming near the end of the hallway where the restrooms were, Nick turned on his heel and started to meander back, but Zoey's irritated growl caught his attention. Looking down the hall at the door to the lobby, he wondered if he should just keep moving, but he desire to eavesdrop was just too powerful when he heard Francis's whine as well.

"Why do I have to sit on the damn toilet?"

"Fine. Stand. I dare you. We haven't done any transfusions on you yet, so you'll fold like a cheap suit. Then I'll have to get Nick and Ellis to pull your pasty ass off the floor!"

Nick couldn't help but chuckle. Zoey really was a firecracker.

"Well, if you'd give me more than a fucking blanket!"

"I'm washing the only clothes you have here! Do you want my underwear? Because I'll give it to you if it will shut you up!"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, Nick stepped away from the door so he could fight off his laughter. The pair of them fought like an old married couple. Daring to edge closer to the door, he composed himself and listened in again. Francis had shut his mouth in short order. There was some shuffling, then the snap of wet fabric as Zoey shook the wrinkles out of what sounded like pants. More items being moved around made Nick wonder what was about to happen. Zoey spoke again, much softer than before.

"I don't know why we couldn't do this in the closer bathroom. It's not exactly a secret that you're all jacked up."

"Zoey, if I scream like a little girl, it will not be within earshot of the others." Francis countered in a tone Nick could only classify as whining.

"You piss and moan like a little girl all the time, what's the big deal if you scream? You got owned by a zombie, it's not the first time and it won't be the last."

He grunted in defiance as she began to clean the sutures with some disinfectant. He'd already finished cleaning the blood off his body in the privacy of the stall while she worked on his clothes, now he huddled in the blanket, revealing his chest wounds for her to clean. Grumbling, he looked away from her, his pride mortally wounded.

"I didn't get owned. Any zombie fight you crawl away from..."

"Means you won. I know, I know." Zoey laughed, trying to keep her hands steady while her irritation gave way to affection. Gripping his shoulder firmly she stated her order. "Now hold still."

He winced when she flicked his sore spot in warning. "Geeze, be gentle you brute."

Nick's eyes nearly rolled out of his head. Francis had clearly surrendered his man card at some point. Finishing up with the cleaning, Zoey stood and placed her hands on her hips.

"Alright, stitches clean, now we need to get that blood out of your hair. Think you can bend over the sink?"

"I'd prefer if you bent-" He joked, receiving another warning poke before he could finish his innuendo. "You're mean."

Turning on the faucet she tempered the water to be pleasantly warm then motioned for him to stick his head in the basin. Funneling the water over his skull with her hands, she was surprised at the amount of red and pink that rushed out as the water loosened and moved away the soaked in blood. He actually had enough hair to run her fingers through at this point, and she secretly relished the opportunity.

"Close your eyes." She advised, lathering up some of the available hand soap. Placing her fingers on his head again, she massaged the suds into his scalp.

"Holy. Shit. If this didn't hurt my chest so bad, I'd make you do that all night."

"I'm too wiped out to do anything all night." She ribbed, appreciating his chuckle at her own joke.

"So only you get to make dirty comments. I see how it is."

When the water was finally clear, she turned off the faucet and helped him slowly right himself again. Too much movement was both difficult on his head with the lost blood, and on the stretching and drying skin on his chest. Sure he had a good grip on the sink Zoey used a small portion of his blanket to soak up some of the water in his clean hair. A smile crept across her face and she had him turn around to face her. Running her fingers through his hair like combs again she molded his hair in the way it seemed to want to naturally fall, forcing the strands forward from his cowlick and up at his forehead.

"Are you... styling my hair?" Francis asked dryly.

"Of course... not." She lied with a snort. Gazing over his shoulder at the mirror, he glared at himself, then shrugged.

"It's alright I guess."

Wrapping his blanket back around his shoulders, Zoey held it tight at his collar bones. Then she picked up his laundry and draped it over her arm."Let's get back and start those transfusions. You can take a pint from me and Nick, we're both O's. By morning you should be feeling considerably better."

"Wait." Francis grumbled in his business tone, drawing a curious look from his small companion.

Preparing to take off and avoid detection, Nick was rooted in place when Francis spoke up again. The mood of the air changed drastically. The soulless baritone Nick remembered returned.

"What did you think of them?"

With a casual shrug she walked over and leaned on the sink. Francis's business voice no longer had an effect on her.

"Rochelle is a bit bossy, Nick's a bit creepy, but overall, I don't mind them. I mean, all I know is that you'd be dead without them. They really came through." She concluded, glad to leave out the part where she sent Nick into a fury with a few well placed words, which started the whole mess with the charger and horde. Zoey's light tone turned dark in the blink of an eye when she remembered why she'd been so angry before Francis passed out earlier. There was no better time to air her anger. Suspicion knit her brow when she went to speak again, and she returned to stand before him. "Francis... why didn't you tell me you knew Nick from before?"

Outside, Nick fought every urge to stick his head through the door to hear better. It was finally getting interesting. _Yeah, Francis, why didn't you?_

"I didn't think it was important."

Zoey's temper flared and she pointed an accusatory finger at him. "It was important enough to tell Louis! After all we've been through am I not trustworthy... after I've told you what I've done?"

"That's not it! I have done... _terrible_ things to people. Things I don't want to remember, and he's part of that."

"Bullshit!" She cried, waving her hand at him. "Look, Francis, there are only two possible reasons you didn't tell me about him. One, you think I am too fragile to handle it, or two, you don't trust me. Which is it?"

Francis was a deer in the headlights. He searched for words, any words, just so he wouldn't sit there blankly staring back at her like an idiot. "I... didn't want to worry you..."

Through her eyes he could see a piece of her shatter as a realization dawned on her with painful clarity. "Fragile it is. You still think I am the useless woman."

"No! God, no! Zoey!" Francis nearly yelled, uncharacteristic panic filling his voice. He'd said the wrong thing, and it just kept coming. "I'm just trying to keep you from falling apart!"

Slowly she started backing away from him, face twisted in distress. "Francis... you of all people..." Her self-concept had been so strongly shaped by her opinion of him from day one. She was always concerned with what he thought, especially the hard earned bits she was ever able to glean from him about herself. Her strength had always been assumed; she could hold her own because she believed him. In truth, she was weak. She was fragile, and she'd never known until that moment, just how easy it was to break.

"Zoey!"

"You always knew I was nothing, but you lied and told me I could be anything. Like a fool I believed you." She admitted with the most heart wrenching tone he'd ever heard. "A useless fool."

"Oh. God." He whispered. Just like that, she slipped away. The fire behind her eyes went out. Together they had been standing on the precipice and in a second her fingers slid from his grasp. She tumbled headfirst into the pit without putting up a fight. His charcoal blackened soul had been her last tenuous handhold and he failed. "Zoey! Talk to me!"

Her features went lifelessly blank, yet her eyes still focused on him, dulling to the point of nearly physically turning gray. If there was ever a picture to describe numbness, it stood before him.

"We need to get the transfusion started." She replied hollowly, holding her arm out to help him up. "I have nothing else to say."

Francis reached for her arm and turned her to face him. "Zoey... I'm still here."

She had no reply, just a blank face with the slightest touch of sorrow in the depths of her eyes. Francis swallowed hard.

_What the hell did I do?_

Outside the door, Nick's spine tightened when the emotional draft put all his neck hairs on end. Backing silently into an empty office he stood off in the shadows, processing what he'd heard. Whatever the case, it was bad. Very bad.

* * *

Approaching the lobby after giving Francis and Zoey the time they needed to walk past, Nick's heart nearly seized when Ellis popped out of a hallway with an armful of vending machine goodies.

"Fuck me!" He yelped, gripping his chest. "Damnit, Ellis!"

"Check this out! Free stuff! Come with me and scope the other floors! We might even find you a new suit and get rid of that turd stain!"

Flushing red trying to calm his spiking blood pressure, Nick collected himself. "No, Ellis!"

"Sheesh. Fine. At least let's get some food." Ellis conceded, trying not to be offended.

"Nah, we got enough, let's go back to the lobby."

"Fine."

"Hey, you can tell us one of your hilarious stories." _Maybe lighten the mood a bit._

Still mildly disappointed, Ellis started walking beside Nick. "You think they're funny?"

"Sure, why not?"

* * *

Zoey taped the intravenous needle from the infusion kit on her arm as the blood began to seep from her body, down the tube, into Francis. She had approximately 15 minutes before she had to close her keg. If she gave too much she'd be in just as bad of shape as him and frankly, she didn't want to be anywhere near him longer than she had to.

"There's just something... weird about this." Francis grumbled, reclined back into the plush customer armchair, wrapped in the blanket. In the chair directly beside him, Zoey thought, then sighed, deciding not to respond.

Coming out of another hallway, Ellis and Nick appeared with what looked like vending machine remnants.

"You still look like hell." Nick scoffed, taking up residence in one of the arm chairs. Francis glared back out of the corner of his eye.

"Still better than you, colonel."

"Keep up that shit and you can find your own blood." Nick warned, picking up a candy bar from the pile Ellis dropped on the table. He tried not to focus on Zoey, she looked somewhat like a zombie herself. Grimacing, he looked to Ellis to try and encourage whatever crazy activities he was about to put on.

"Alright guys," Ellis began, digging in the pockets of his jumpsuit pants. "We're gonna make the most of this night. So get your sugar ready, it's time for..._candy poker_."

Francis leaned forward stiffly, trying not to aggravate his stitches. "Only if it's strip."

"No one wants to see you naked, Francis." Zoey snipped coldly. The others laughed taking the jab as a joke, but when Francis snuck a glance at her, he caught the drift of her frigid stare.

Nick looked over with a devilish smirk when Francis turned back to the table. Francis furrowed his brow in confusion. There was no way Nick missed that, and if he didn't, he knew something was up. _Shit... that's not good._ "Nevermind. I'm fine with candy."

"Gimmie those cards, Ell. So you don't want to make this interesting, eh, Franny?" Nick asked innocently, purposely dropping the deck as he shuffled it. Ellis laughed and slapped Nick on the back as he took a seat.

"I'd say you're safe. This guy can't play cards to save his _life!_"

"Yeah, _Francis_," Nick practically purred, "You heard the kid, I'm _harmless_."

"Well, I'm saying, no." Zoey stated flatly, reaching for a treat. "I'm not going to risk getting naked for _anyone_."

"Second." Rochelle yawned with a smile.

Leveling a suspicious stare at Nick, Francis squinted his eyes. "So how much crap have you won off that kid on _beginners luck_?"

Ellis stopped laughing when he saw Francis was not joking around. "He's not kidding, Nick. You do have an awful lot of beginner's luck."

Nick shrugged and Rochelle laughed. "I told you Ellis."

"Nick. Did you hustle me? Did you? Look at me Nick!" Ellis said seriously, "I want my lighter back... and my silver dollar... my necklace."

"I won those fair and square. You being gullible is not a crime." Nick explained, and with the flick of his wrists picked up the fallen cards and shuffled them faster than any of them had ever seen before... except Francis.

"Look, Ellis. I am _good_ at playing cards. Nick should be working in gaming counter fraud at the FBI." Francis said dryly, drawing a concerned look to the young man's face.

Rochelle laughed heartily. "Nick, I swear, I better not wake up in a tub of ice missing my kidneys!"

"Well... nah. There's no market for those right now." Nick teased, giving Rochelle one of his rare smiles while his fingers spit cards like lightening. "Alright everyone, get your candy piles ready, aces high..."

After about fifteen minutes Zoey ended the transfusion and switched seats with Nick. Nick rolled up his sleeve without so much as a peep and allowed Zoey to setup the process again. Francis didn't know what to think. Was this really the same guy that had hunted him like a dog across the lower 48 for ten plus years? Now he was giving his blood without complaint to save his life.

"I'll go about 20 minutes." Nick informed Zoey, clenching and unclenching his fist repeatedly to get the flow moving. He'd actually donated blood quite a bit in the old days when family members needed clean samples. As one of the few non-users sharing DNA with the main family, he was expected to give such contributions regularly.

"Are you sure?" Rochelle asked.

"Yep. Even if I can't stand this idiot, Zoey saved my life today." Nick reasoned, tossing a sidelong glance at Francis, who grunted unintelligible obscenities in reply. He really didn't miss Nick, even if he had reformed a bit. He was playing at something being friendly all evening, and Francis was leery as to what that could be. There was enough on his mind trying to think of a way to get Zoey back to herself, if he could.

"Aren't I just a lucky duck." Francis deadpanned, sinking lower into the chair. He never wanted to owe Nick anything, especially after receiving the blood from his body. Nick's life force was literally travelling down a small tube into him and would be flowing through his body for weeks. What made it worse was how much better he was already feeling better after Zoey's contribution. After Nick's he'd probably be feeling pretty damn good, wounds aside, by morning.

"Quit bitchin, Princess." Nick edged, poking Francis with his cards before shuffling the deck and starting the game over again. "It's like I said, I'm paying Zoey back. Nothing more."

Francis grunted and picked up his cards. For a million different reasons, he didn't believe him.

The evening was uncomfortable and fun. As Francis expected, Nick pushed him out of his winnings in a few hands. It was a good thing they didn't do strip poker after all. Francis _never_ wanted to hang out in a circle with other half or fully naked guys, drunk or not. He'd honestly choose death first.

Francis also noted with a wry smile that it was a miracle Nick could focus on the game at all. Ellis was evenly splitting his attention between trying to get him and Zoey to laugh at his jokes. Francis couldn't tell which person the kid had a bigger crush on. She would laugh politely then roll her eyes off to the side, and Nick would shift back and forth between frothing irritation and mild amusement, Ellis was oblivious to either reaction as he was more focused on his own babble.

After the transfusion ended, Francis had enough of consciousness for the evening. Bidding all good night he found and laid down on a lone lobby couch. Securely wrapped in the warm blanket he gazed up at the dusty ceiling as he considered his thoughts.

The pain in his chest had dulled a small amount since the procedure, but it wasn't giving him enough of a reprieve to be comfortable. Thankfully all the extra blood was fighting off low iron fatigue and dizziness as well. He would thank Nick for his contribution at some point in the future, or find a way to pay him back without having to actually be grateful. Zoey on the other hand... he needed to thank her every day for the rest of his life for sewing him back up for the second time... if she let him.

Whatever the hell had been broken inside Zoey needed to be fixed, not for his benefit or to avoid any personal discomfort, but for her sake. She was definitely fragile, she had gotten that right. What she didn't get was that it wasn't because she was a weak person, but because a human being can only take so much trauma before breaking down. Zoey was strong, smart, funny, tenacious and above all she was human and subject to the weaknesses they all shared. Francis needed to do whatever it took to keep her from going into full meltdown, and patch her up for the time being until they reached safety. At the end, even if it destroyed any chance he ever had at being someone she wanted in her life, he would do whatever it took to see her through it. The consequence could be that she hated him for the rest of her natural life, but he'd be that person if it meant she didn't have to trudge through the loneliness and hurt he'd wallowed in the majority of his adult life. He'd been through his own hell, burned all his bridges to the past. She didn't need to make his mistakes all over again. Just like back in the liquor store, he'd be her punching bag until she had no punches left. There was life after death for her, and she deserved to have it.

That was just the emotional road. The physical burden wasn't going to ease anytime soon either. He wasn't by any means hopeful for some comedic sitcom journey over the next few days. In truth, it would probably be just as if not more difficult than what they had come against so far. The Florida coast line was heavily populated and it was their target. Find a boat, find an empty island in the Keys, and live happily ever after wasn't as simple as it sounded.

After, of course, reclaiming the bikes and reuniting with Louis, an event during which he would practically be useless. Sighing in frustration he opened the blanket and looked down at the black thread holding his skin together. It was ugly and snarled, making a mess out of what used to be some very taught skin. Running his fingers gently over the sutures he squinted, then rolled his eyes. _You gotta be shitting me. How damn cheesy is that?_

The deepest claw mark had cut straight through the middle of the winged heart tattoo the nuns had picked out. Zoey had sewn his torn heart back together. Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose and wrapped back up in the blanket.

He needed rest.

The road was twisting, darkness was falling, his soul was weary, and his armor was growing heavy.

But the battles were just beginning.


	12. Off The Map

Note: Oooh boy. This chapter got split in two. Even I think 20k is too much for one chapter. And yes, new word count is around 170k in my word doc. Still quite a bit of story to go, and it keeps growing for some reason. Many thanks to Flashman for some perspective checks! It got me back on track :)

* * *

**Chapter 11: Off The Map**

_Rotting faces everywhere. _

_Boney and broken fingers reached out, touching her... grasping her. Desperately they sought out living flesh to consume, to try and steal away the humanity they once lost._

_She refused to give in and let them dine. Damnit, she wanted to live! Selfish was the name of the game! Whoever lived the longest would win, or at the very least... would be the king of dead body mountain. _

_But... she couldn't get past the faces. She once knew some of them... loved some of them. They seemed so forlorn... lost... afraid. All they wanted was to make the hunger disappear, sate the cravings, feel life once again, but they never would. They were beyond help, and swallowing that very real fact was the only reason she ever was able to pull the trigger. _

_Boom. One silenced. Boom. Two. Boom, boom, boom. Five. Soon she lost count... and the faces blended into each other so much that they started to look alike. Man in the fatigues, boom. Blonde in the skirt and long sleeve shirt, boom. Then the same faces again, boom, boom. Was it a defense mechanism? A way to protect herself from the thousands she'd slaughtered without remorse by respawning the same faces in her mind order to be numb and uncaring?_

_Did they blame her? Did their wandering souls stick to her, still craving a touch of life? Was she being haunted?_

_She ran as quick as her legs could carry her, but it seemed they all moved so much faster than her, coming from every direction, screeching, belching, and gurgling as they tried to drag her to hell to pay for her crimes. First through the forest, then the corn field, the office building, the airport, the damned bridge..._

_"Oh God! No! Please! I'm sorry! I had to!"_

_Fingers and claws dug into her skin, pulling her in several different directions. Tearing flesh, rushing blood..._

_Immeasurable pain._

_"Nooo! NOOO!"_

* * *

Zoey's eyes flew open, and she clutched at her heart through her blanket, gasping for air. It was only a dream.

Again.

Since the infection began she'd been having nightmares once in a while, usually in the nights after the hardest days. When they frightened her gravely enough she would not sleep for the rest of the night. The pain was always so real that when she awoke she could feel her nerves firing off in shock over some imaginary force, when in truth nothing had touched her.

It was going to be one of those nights. If only her Ipod wasn't ten miles away in her pack.

Willing her breathing under control, she sat up from her three cushions she'd aligned next to the couch Francis took up residence on earlier in the evening. Her desire to be as far from him as possible was outweighed by the peaceful sleep she usually had when he was near, but it seemed their severed connection had deeper consequences than she'd expected. She could have been _on_ the couch with him and the demons would have attacked her unheeded tonight. Sighing, she turned and leaned back against the couch, relieved his rhythmic breathing hadn't faltered like it did when he pretended to sleep. Under normal circumstances just the sound would soothe her as it had most nights of the last months, except she had the singular problem of being too terrified to close her eyes. Wiping her forehead when a tickle grabbed her attention she frowned. She was sweating again. _Night terrors like some small child._ The rotting faces... always the terrible rotting faces. Then the grasping hands... the pain... the fear...

She was scared of the dead. Of her wrongdoings. Of the dark. Of returning to sleep and being torn apart. Loneliness... isolation...desolation...

_Like a damn child! I am so damn worthless. _Tears flowed freely but silently, she'd become a master of silent crying. Open sobbing woke people from their restful slumber and drew attention to her.

She refused to tell anyone about the dreams, always had. Francis was out of the question, he thought she was fragile as it was. Louis would needlessly worry. She needed to be strong... on her own, damnit! She didn't need Francis, Louis, or anyone else! What good would she be to anyone if she couldn't take care of herself? If she wasn't strong on her own... she was dead weight... just a useless woman.

What really had her on edge was that it was the first time she'd ever had a nightmare two nights in a row. Was this an omen of things to come? Would she be greeted by hell every time she closed her eyes? Looking over her shoulder, she sighed. Her torment was a burden for her to carry alone.

Standing from her nest, she picked up her pistol and flicked on the light then wandered to the rotunda of the main hall. The silver moonlight bathed everything in a pale glow from the high windows. If she didn't know any better she would have thought she was walking in the world between the living and dead. Would specters come out to greet her? Irrational fear spiked her adrenaline, surging her heart rate. All she needed was to be paranoid about ghosts now, but going on two nights without sleep it was easy to be paranoid about everything, unfounded as it may be.

Finding a secluded area she backed herself into a corner and slid down to the cold marble floor. If she was going to try and stay awake all night in fear of the moving darkness, she would do so from a defensible position, away from those who could be disturbed by her mania.

Sighing she rubbed her eyes and gripped her pistol with both hands.

_Rotting faces when I'm awake. Rotting faces when I sleep. _

Fatigue soon overcame her and unwillingly she slipped back into the realm of dreams.

* * *

_Running again. She was always running somewhere, from something. _

_From them. Rotting faces. _

_The familiar splash of red caught her attention up a head. _

_"Saferoom!" She gasped, lungs burning as she pushed herself to her physical limit, yet the door seemed to stay the same distance away no matter how hard she ran. "Please!"_

_The thuds of footsteps behind her spurned desperate tears. How could they be so fast! Why was the door so far away?!_

_Claws dug into her shoulders, tearing her to the ground. Falling face first, she cried out on impact, jerking her head up once more to see the door was only inches away now, teasing her with its promise of protection._

_"Please! Let me in!" She screamed, trying to kick away the claws and teeth of her pursuers. _

_No one was coming. Then again, no one ever did. She didn't deserve rescue. Not after what she'd done. _

_"Please!"_

_Shotgun blasts rang and filled the air. Instantly, her attackers were gone and the saferoom door stood wide open emanating a white light, blinding her mangled body on the ground. Three shadows stepped out and three sets of hands reached for her. Cigarette smoke tickled her nose, soft affirmations and laughter soothed her ears, and large gentle hands rolled her over. The three most wonderful faces in the world came into focus and looked down at her. _

_Bill stood with his arms crossed, a beaming smile on his face, but he was hard to see as the white light seemed to project directly behind him. Louis bent over, resting his hands on his knees, his long lost red tie dangling in the air. As usual a bright smile was on his face. "You'll be alright. I've got a good feeling."_

_"You just gonna lay here all day?" Francis rumbled, smirking wryly and kneeling beside her, a hand resting firmly on her shoulder. "Come on now, upsie-daisy. Saferoom is right there."_

_"I... I can't."_

_"You can if you let us help you." Bill said seriously. _

_"I have to do it alone." Zoey said darkly and dug her fingers into the concrete floor. Even if she never reached the saferoom on her own, she refused to relent. Her legs didn't work, her body was broken, and a few inches may as well have been a few miles. It seemed it was impossible to foot the journey alone. _

_Bill started to walk away. _

_"Bill! Don't go!"_

_"I don't have a choice, dear. Time's up."_

_"No! Please! Not again!"_

_In a second, he was swallowed by the darkness. The air shifted and Louis howled, then fell to the ground. His leg torn to shreds. _

_"No! Louis!" _

_Snarls of pain sounded to her side as Francis keeled over. Blood running freely from his shoulder and chest, the summation of his recent wounds open and fresh._

_"Francis!" She cried in desperation, trying to turn to him. "Get in the saferoom! Both of you!"_

_"No!" They yelled simultaneously. Louis drug himself to her other side, and turned to face the shadows and darkness as the thuds of infected feet started their way. He grabbed her free hand and pulled out a pistol. _

_"All or nothing!" Louis yelled over his shoulder. "We'll help you!"_

_"No! I can do this!"_

_Warm hands hooked under her arms and she felt herself being turned over and sat upright against something soft._

_"Then we... we're going to stay with you... dumb stubborn girl..." Francis grunted through pain, clutching her tightly with one arm, reaching for his pistol with the other. Louis squeezed her free hand._

_"No! Go!" She whimpered, struggling and failing to get away from them. "You're both going to die if you don't let me go!" _

_Resting his chin on the top of her head, Francis mumbled into her hair, exhaustion in his voice._

_"So be it."_

_"No! No! I don't deserve this! Let me go!"_

_A sea of red eyes blinked into existence and set upon them._

* * *

Accidentally rolling onto his side had moved his wounds in a very painful manner, and brought him quickly to consciousness. Grumbling, he sat up and looked around, habitually counting bodies. Nick, Rochelle, Ellis and... and...

Francis narrowed his eyes. _Damnit, Zoey!_

Why'd that little shit always wander off? Putting his feet on the ground, his eyebrows hiked in surprise when instead of hitting ground, they hit couch cushion. Apparently that's where she was _supposed_ to be. Her pack, as well as the unconscious dog beside the cushions confirmed his suspicion.

Stumbling to his feet, he stepped over the curled up mutt and made his way out to the rotunda. Eyes fully dilated in the low light, he slowly made his scan of the room. _If I was a crazy ass girl with a guilty conscience I'd be...over...somewhere... nearby...close... maybe..._

_There._

Smashed into the only open corner with her knees jammed up to her chest, face hidden in her arms, Zoey looked about the size of a child. As he neared he heard the whimpers then saw her trembling. It was a full blown nightmare if he'd ever seen one. He wondered exactly how long she'd been having them.

Kneeling before her, he laid a hand on her shoulder while he gently removed the loaded pistol from her hand and set it a good distance away. She was deep in the clutches of the dream and wouldn't respond to physical touch while her eyes rolled wildly behind her lids. Sighing he simply moved her out of the corner and slid in behind her and pulled her to his chest, more on the right to avoid as much of the wound as possible. Situated in a mildly comfortable manner, he wrapped his blanket around the both of them. A few minutes passed and she stopped twitching and finally relaxed, coming to breech consciousness.

"Let me go..." She sleep-mumbled.

"No." He whispered indignantly.

Almost instantly she stiffened when she became fully awake. Lifting her head to look up at him with a mix of confusion and anger, she stuttered a few incoherent words before sinking her teeth into something.

"Why are you here?"

"You're being stupid." He said matter of fact.

Awkwardly she scooted away and spun around to face him. Eyes dancing with anxiety and exhaustion she teetered on the brink of hysterics, but managed to hold firm.

"Go back to the couch!" She demanded in a hiss.

"Not without you." He crossed his arms.

"I don't need this." She sighed, rubbing her eyes. So tired. So damn tired. There was just not enough energy left in her body to fight.

"I don't either, which is why it's not up for discussion."

"Francis! I don't want you here!"

"I don't care. You're not going to freeze to death in the corner like a moron."

Lightning fast he snatched her wrist and pulled her tightly to his chest with a painful thud. Struggling wildly, she tried to break free, but even with substantial injury he was massively stronger than she could ever hope to be. Coming to brink of physical fatigue she finally collapsed into him, her snarls fading to whimpers, then silent sobs.

Removing his hands from her wrists, he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. Her arms encircled his waist and clung. It was impossible to know what demon she'd been battling in that nightmare, but it's toll had been great.

"Why won't you let me be strong?" She breathed into the uninjured side of his chest. "I hate you... I hate... you... " She mumbled beginning to lose consciousness as his warmth thawed her, like having the rays of the sun in the dark. "Please...leave me... don't..."

"Hate me all you want. I'm not going anywhere."

She sighed, her breathing leveled out, and she drifted into oblivion, clamped onto him for dear life. So tired, upset, angry, regretful... lost. She really didn't want him to leave. That was the last thing she ever wanted, but the darkness was breathing down her neck and she didn't know what to do. Like an injured animal backed into a corner she was going to lash out at anyone that came near, no matter what their intentions.

Light clicking brought her back to consciousness for a moment and she peered around Francis's arms. The dog slowly walked over to lay beside them, resting his soft head on Francis's thigh. Zoey moved her hand to stroke the animal's soft head. So much of the anxiety she'd felt from her restless sleep started to dull. Between Francis's warmth and the soothing peace of the dog, soon she was at a temporary peace. She fell into a dreamless, restful sleep.

Leaning his head back against the wall, Francis shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, fighting off the sting of her words, simultaneously coping with the physical pain of his wounds struggling with her had enflamed. He'd been right after all. Good things were not intended for him and she had been the best thing of all. However he wouldn't duck and run like he'd been conditioned to do in the past. He'd made a promise and he'd die before he broke it. He'd see her put back together no matter what kind of mud he'd have to be dragged through to accomplish it. Someone as precious as her was worth risking every consequence in the book, for if she was lost then his own darkness would return, and he feared that more than anything.

Putting others before himself was truly a pain in the ass.

* * *

The next morning Zoey was stirred by the cool nose of the dog nudging her face with his nose. Rolling over and grumbling she caved in when the dog proceeded to stand with his front paws on her back. Francis was long gone, just like he used to do back when they were hopping safe houses, sure to vacate before she and the others were awake. It wasn't often back then he'd help her sleep, but it was always a sure thing. He was always a sure thing when she needed it. Sighing, she pushed up off the floor, swatting at the dog.

"Fine! Fine! Get off me, mutt!"

Sitting patiently while she stretched and gathered her wits, the animal looked back over his shoulder as the other humans were having a fairly lively morning conversation. Under normal circumstances the lot of them would have been fairly grumpy, but since they were in a bank, there was a surplus of coffee to go around.

"Hell, Ellis, maybe you'd just like some coffee flavor to go with your sugar and cream." Francis's voice echoed off the marble, drawing a frustrated scowl to Zoey's face.

"Coffee is just burnt water otherwise." Ellis replied seriously.

"Riiiight." Rochelle snorted, "Burnt. Water."

Putting on a brave face, Zoey popped up from behind the desk as if it was the most natural thing in the world. After greeting her companions, securing her own morning beverage and treats, and avoiding any eye contact with Francis at all, she sat back in the circle of chairs around the table.

"So when are we leaving?" She asked bluntly, steamrolling over two of her new companions about to ask why she'd slept nearly across the building from everyone else. It was not something she wanted to discuss in a group, or ever really. _Oh, just nightmares where we all die. No big!_

"Soon as we're all ready, I guess." Rochelle replied slowly, noticing some darkening circles beneath Zoey's eyes. "Are you alri-"

"Perfect." Zoey snipped, cutting her off. "Well, we have work to do, so no point in hanging around."

Rochelle frowned. It was a fairly rude interruption, but she'd let it slide for now. There was clearly something wrong with her. Ever since she'd come back from helping Francis clean up last night, she'd been locked down tight. Those kinds of things did not get past Rochelle. Everyone's business was her business if it affected the safety of the group. Spending another night in a bank while someone else's wounds healed, or worse, after someone died was exactly what she wanted to avoid.

"Pack your shit then." Nick said wistfully, not exactly thrilled to be heading back out. Who knew how many of the scarecrows were still hobbling around outside the door. "Or we could hang out here a few more days, you know? There's food..." He trailed off, rolling his eyes when he realized no one was listening to him. "Don't mind me! Just talking to myself!"

"So, uh, do you need help?" Ellis asked Francis as he started to pull the dressing off his stitches, too stung to even ask Zoey directly for help. Yes, there was still no one in the world he liked better and was going to do whatever it took to help her, but for the moment he was happy to keep a few feet between them so he could charge up for the next round.

"No." Francis barked, pulling the dried dressings off a particularly sensitive spot.

"Ok man." Ellis replied, holding up his hands. "Just askin."

Blood pressure rising at his very voice, Zoey started for Francis, hands out. If anyone was going to be pissed off and angry it was going to be her.

"Don't touch me." He growled, and she angrily shoved her hands onto her hips. He wasn't bothering to hide his annoyance at all, and everyone heard it, which added to her mood. _Oh yeah? You get to be an ass and I don't? I can play this game too! _

"Too bad!" She snapped, tearing the disinfectant and wrappings away from him. "You'll never get it all anyway! Then you'll get an infection and die and I'll have to shoot you again!"

Startled, he was caught between his anger and the fact that when she got all pissy like that she was hotter than hell. It was so confusing to be furious and turned on at the same time.

"Fine!" He yelled back. "You clean it!"

"I will!"

Nick, Ellis, and Rochelle looked back and forth between each other.

"Are they bipolar?" Rochelle whispered.

"Is that something that two people can share?" Ellis wondered, taking off his hat to scratch his crown.

Nick just stared at the pair, growing more irritated with each glare they slung at each other. Trudging over to them, he grabbed one of each of their shoulders and leaned in with a tone that could freeze fire.

"Listen to me right now." Nick hissed, leveling a dead stare. Francis knew that voice, he was not playing around and it would not take more than another word from either of them before he pulled out a gun or a knife. "I don't give two shits about this spat you idiots are having, but if even for one second it compromises the safety of those two over there, I will end you both before the zombies ever get a chance. Got it?"

Zoey nodded profusely, eyes wide.

"Yeah." Francis mumbled, resting his arms on the armrests of the chair, giving Zoey access to his wounds. Before he walked off, Nick raised both of his hands and slapped the back of their respective heads.

"Hey!" Zoey exclaimed, but shut up when Nick merely pointed and gave her a warning stare. Francis only scowled. That was not a button to push. Ever. When he made promises, Nick followed through, he'd seen it firsthand. Francis had never ended a life, Nick couldn't say the same.

"Zoey." Francis growled quietly, getting Zoey's attention. "Let it go." The look on his face chilled her blood. Nodding again, she silently went to work. Francis had a habit of constantly joking around, but when he didn't it was best to pay attention... even if presently she wanted to strangle him with her belt.

"Oh wow, what did you say to them?" Ellis asked, replacing his hat when Nick casually strode back over.

"I suggested they get along." Nick said simply, picking up his coffee cup. Rochelle had seen him make suggestions to other live people in their journey up til then. Threats/ suggestions... whatever worked.

"Right." She smirked, taking a slow sip of her hot coffee.

* * *

When everyone was as ready as they could be, Ellis and Nick stealthily lead the party out the front door of the bank, hoping not to have to fire a single shot as they made their way along the buildings, giving the dried up infected as wide a birth as possible.

Francis kept his movement down to a minimal, letting the others deal with immediate threats and the few infected that could not be avoided or that stumbled onto them. It would only take one popped stitch for the mummies to swarm. Though as much as he didn't want to have to fight for his life, he was mostly being cautious to avoid giving Zoey something new to breathe fire at him over. The morning had been awful and no doubt the rest of the day would be as well once they returned to the convenience store. It was hard to gauge her reaction to anything. Even when she'd look back to check on him, her concern would immediately shift to anger and disgust. He'd just glare back, unhappy she wouldn't dislodge the bug that crawled up her butt.

After about ten minutes they passed the clinic they'd barely escaped the previous night, the mass of bodies on the ground a morbid reminder of the danger lurking about. Ellis and Nick checked on their team again, sure everyone was focused on not making a peep. Satisfied, Ellis motioned for everyone to continue on, treading carefully amongst the corpses. He'd stepped on his fair share of road kill carcasses as a kid and knew once the sun did it's work it sounded roughly like stepping on a bag of twigs. That kind of noise would not be acceptable.

Bill sniffed about casually, the concept of sneaking lost on him. Happy to be out and about, he roamed back and forth across the street, taking in the diverse bouquet of smells with careless abandon. The dead things were actually dead now, which settled much better with the dog. There was no longer the presence of the hunger and sorrow that usually radiated out of the carcasses that still moved about. If he had the capacity to hate, he would indeed hate those unnatural things.

The humans would hiss at him from time to time for some reason, but Bill felt no urgency, in fact after holding it in all night while in the _inside _place, he had a full tank and exercised it thoroughly. There were a lot of things to mark in the streets, and he was certain he had enough water to visit every single one of them. He also wanted to roll in some of the smelly things... but the female human he loved so much didn't like it and made all kinds of irritated noises when he did, so he passed the temptation and kept his party in sight as he trotted along... more than occasionally lifting his leg.

"Damn that dog can pee." Nick mumbled under his breath and shook his head.

"Killed a hunter and thinks he's a big dog." Francis replied with a sly smirk. "Earned it, I think."

Coming around the last corner, all five were on edge as the bikes shifted into view. As they figured, they were left alone. Breathing in relief Nick motioned everyone to go.

Francis walked over to his bike and opened up a saddle bag. He pulled out a pipebomb and clipped it to his belt. While he searched for any other useful items, the others approached and settled onto their rides. Closing the flap on the bag the bike shifted and Francis hiked his eyebrows in surprise to see Zoey straddling his bike in the driver's seat. He'd expected Ellis, but when he looked at Zoey's ride he saw Ellis settling in and securing the dog. Turning back to Zoey his stomach sunk again. There was that nasty stare.

"Get on!" She snapped in a whisper, turning back to grab the handle bars.

"Don't get your panties all in a bunch, I'm comin." He snapped back, tentatively climbing on. He swallowed hard when he wrapped his good arm around her. Leaning forward to help her balance, he tensed when she stiffened. The dark tendrils of anger spiraling up off of her were practically visible. _She's going to hurt me today._

Zoey was beside herself. She knew what was coming when he climbed on and it still threw her for a loop. Her brain was furious at him, emotionally she wanted nothing to do with him, but her body was a little slow on the uptake. His weight against her, the warmth of his hand as it wrapped around her trunk and gripped her hip, and the tickle of his breath on her neck made her regret insisting on driving him. Ellis had offered, but she'd insisted anyway. Not letting her take care of him was why she was so pissed at him after all, right? _Keep it together, jackass_, she thought to herself, biting her cheek. She barely had the coherence to watch Nick countdown as they all started the bikes and tore out of the alley. Shaking her head, she cleared her thoughts to focus on the road and the infected shambling after them, attracted the noisy rumble of the bikes.

Francis armed the pipebomb and winged it behind them for some extra insurance. As they sped out of town, he sighed and relaxed, happy to be relatively out of danger. He'd only been the passenger one other time in his life and it wasn't with someone half as appealing as Zoey. Wrapping his arms around her again, he absently fidgeted with the fabric of her coat. He purposely tried to ignore the fact she was probably fuming at the very necessary contact, noting to keep his sensitive areas away from her swinging fists and boots for the foreseeable future when they reached base.

His moving fingers shot bolts electricity through her. She had a hard time keeping her eyes on the road. How was it hating someone could burn so hotly? _Because you don't hate him._ Flushing furiously, she scowled. _But I do! I hate how he puts me first! I hate how he treats me like a porcelain doll! I hate... _

_I hate how he doesn't need me at all. I'm... I'm just an accessory. Optional, not critical. _

Zoey nearly drove the bike off the road as the revelation hit home. There it was. That was the base of it, why she was so angry about the withheld information. He was strong, he was independent. He needed nothing and no one. At least, that's what she believed.

If you had gone back half a year, he would have said the same. Time, zombies, Bill, and Zoey herself however had done a number on him, but she couldn't see it. She'd been front row center with him since they pulled him out of that horde, and was able to see change as much as person who wanted to watch paint fade on a house over a year without looking away. In truth neither of them were aware that he'd been growing into her unconscious perceptions of him. He scrambled to try be the person she thought he was, the person who's only rewards were bright smiles and affirmations, which as it turned out were addicting as hell...

Zoey's flush turned bright red, when she felt something more substantial than air touch the back of her neck. She'd memorized the touch of his kiss back the cabin, there was no mistake. The sensation faded when he pulled away, but Zoey's neck still burned as hot as her cheeks.

_Damn you, Francis._

* * *

Louis and Coach ran out to greet the rest of their team when the bikes pulled up to the store. Louis sprinted over to his friends, more animated than usual as he skid to a stop at the bike, babbling excitedly as he checked them over.

"What the hell happened!? Francis, I'm assuming this is all your fault. That settles it, you two aren't going anywhere without me again."

Zoey chuckled, nudging down the kick stand with her foot. Though at ends with her passenger, she was genuinely happy to see her friend. "We're ok, Louis."

"Maybe you are." Francis growled, slowly extracting himself from the bike. The bumpy ride had been hell on his wounds, and he'd clung to his driver for most of the journey. Shortly after they'd shot out of town he'd accidently dipped his face to rest on her neck when a particular bolt of pain nearly made him pass out after the bike suddenly shimmied.

"I think I might be dreaming. Did you get a vest-ectomy?" Louis gaped, noticing the only covering he had on his upper half was the bandages. "Seriously, what the hell happened?"

"Shit hit the fan. What else is new?" Zoey replied, dismounting the bike herself. Looking over to the others, she smiled when she saw Coach hugging the crap out of his three charges, whether or not they wanted it. Turning back to Louis, she frowned. "Chargers, hunters, and jockeys."

"Oh my." Louis cracked. Francis groaned loudly.

"I did not miss your cheesy ass jokes."

"Yes you did." Louis snorted. Zoey rolled her eyes, then placed her hand on Francis's lower back, pushing him toward the door.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up and drugged up." She said quietly, barely projecting the exhaustion she felt.

"Hey Stumpy, think you can dig up some pills?" Francis asked over his shoulder. In a flash Louis pulled two bottles out of his pockets, following them in. "Pain or antibiotic?"

"Both." Zoey chuckled, "You know, you don't have to keep them on you 24/7."

"Always be prepared." Louis countered, handing both bottles to Francis, who nodded in thanks as Zoey guided him into the restroom.

"It's good to see you, Louie." He said as she shut the door.

"Ditto, guys." Louis said under his breath, relieved to have his family back where he could keep an eye on them. However he couldn't shake the feeling something was off. Granted Francis was injured, but Francis was always dancing with a solid ass kicking. Zoey seemed ok, but less feisty than usual, especially when it came to the friendly banter he expected between his two friends. They barely looked at each other and she seemed disjointed. Louis frowned. Something else happened they weren't talking about, but he would have to get to the bottom of it later, he had the others to check on, and he was sure none of them had a decent meal while they were gone.

Hours later after a meal, a few drinks, and some short conversation on the path out the next morning, the group bedded down for the night. It was impossible to say where they would sleep next and needed to take advantage of the accommodations one last time. Among the sounds of sleeping people Zoey found herself leaning against the door jamb of the office, wide awake. After a good hour of trying to fall asleep just to open her eyes to the carnage of her nightmares, she figured it was going to be another one of those restless nights, and she just didn't want to push sleep. She could handle being tired in the morning. The dog slept happily by her side which she pet to sooth her own nerves.

Rolling her head over to look in the dark office she saw Francis's chest rise and fall as he slept without issue. She could go over there, start an argument, egg him into forcing her to stay and sleep beside him, but her pride was in the way. That was what being independent was about, not needing anyone for anything, and the one person she wanted to _not_ need at the moment was him.

Raising her eyes to look out the windows, she focused on the black sky and simply watched as the hours passed and it slowly shifted to blue.

* * *

The caravan through the remainder of Georgia into Northern Florida was mostly uneventful. They stopped for rest breaks once in a while, but the roads were as empty as they could wish for. There weren't even many car pile ups or abandoned vehicles. As usual, Louis's maps and directions were spot on as they toured the back roads and entered the mid December landscape of northern Florida.

Coming upon a seemingly endless stretch of golden fields after passing over the state line Louis pulled the caravan off to the side of the two lane road when he saw something that wasn't on the map. He needed to make sure they hadn't taken a wrong turn. Francis and Coach dismounted and walked over to see what the deal was.

"Uh, Louie? Why the stop?"

"This, uh, fairly large town is not on the map, or any of my maps for that matter."

Francis looked again at the fenced off community then around at the endless expanse of gold fields. "I think I speak for everyone when I say, why do we care?"

"For one, gotta make sure we're going the right way, two, being this remote it might be a good place to stay for the night."

Francis lifted his hand and motioned to the sun. "Sun is there, we're going south. Mystery solved."

"Francis, are you honestly telling me you are not interested in looting? We could use the gas."

"He's got a point, son." Coach added honestly. Francis grimaced and crossed his arms. He loved looting, and they _could_ use the gas, but he just wanted the rest of the trip to go as fast as it could with as few stops as possible. The sooner they got to the island, the sooner he could build his little shack and rot on the beach without anymore duties to escort people to safety. His obligation to Bill would be fulfilled.

"Fine. Go in armed, who knows what shit is in there."

"There is a shitload of nothing out here. I bet that's a military installation." Ellis thought aloud, squinting his eyes as he looked through the gates.

"Doesn't look like any I've ever seen." Zoey said mostly to herself.

"Well, let's check it out anyway." Louis said, folding up the sheets of paper.

Loaded back on their bikes, they drove towards the gate, weapons ready as they slowly entered. It was like a suburban neighborhood had been plucked out of the suburbs of some middle America city. Green lawns, nice landscaping, and moderately large houses were lined up perfectly on the planned grid. There were no people, no damage to the buildings, and no sign of any infected. The strangest part of it all was the outdoor lights activating on some of the homes as the sun was starting to fall and cast long shadows. By all accounts not only should the town be occupied, it should have been thriving.

"This is very Stepford." Nick said suspiciously as they slowly moved down the perfectly paved residential streets.

"It's like they all just packed up for vacation and took off." Rochelle added from behind him.

"Anyone else think this is weird? I think this is weird." Ellis commented.

"It was evacuated." Zoey concluded, frowning in thought. "Only thing that makes sense."

Louis pulled up in a driveway and parked. Francis followed suit, arming himself with his usual stash when he dismounted. Securing his prosthetic, Louis armed himself and together he and Francis walked up to the front door of the house. Coach followed and stood out on the sidewalk, shotgun ready. Louis approached the door and decided to knock loudly. As expected there was no response. Leaning over, he tried the handle and the door swung open. A good portion of the lights were on in the house as well as the central weather system, and as far as he could tell, water moving in the pipes as the front yard sprinklers gurgled to life.

However that didn't mean anything. Out of habit he and Francis explored the house with weapons raised, clearing the premises of any possible threat, but there was none. Meeting back out front they both shrugged where the others stood patiently.

"I think you're right, Zo. Seems like the town was cleared orderly and abandoned." Louis thought, looking around at the other houses a bit more.

"Well then, I say we relax tonight and give it the city a closer examination in the morning. I call first shower." Nick finished and pushed past the others into the house.

"What a girl." Rochelle chuckled, walking in the door.

"I still don't like the fact that there is no obvious reason why there is still power and water going." Zoey said with a sigh, fighting every childish urge she had to run through the sprinklers.

"Like Nick said, we'll look more in the morning." Louis assured her then turned to walk in behind the others.

Zoey remained outside by herself looking around the street at the other homes. She could just go into another home and clean up, even be queen of her own castle for a while. In the meantime, no one was looking and she could indulge herself. Setting down her weapons and coat, she untied and removed her boots and socks, rolled up her pant cuffs to her calves, and walked into the grass. Shivering with a smile, she loved the feel off the cool water spray on her arms, legs, and face. In a matter of seconds she was thoroughly soaked, then with a hop fell to the ground to lay on her back and close her eyes.

From the doorway, Francis leaned against the frame, his left arm prone across his stomach as he avoided straining his wounds. The scowl slowly melted from his face as he watched her enjoy the simple pleasure.

"I didn't know we were having a sprinkler party!" Ellis cheered behind him. As he ran to exit the house to the yard, Francis threw up his right arm to block his path. The younger man stopped in surprise and looked up to a serious warning glare.

"Let her be."

"Oh. Sorry." Ellis apologized and walked back into the kitchen to join the others as they raided the cabinets. Coach's voice scolded and warned the others as they dug through the kitchen, threatening them with certain doom if they ate something he needed to make a proper dinner.

Shortly thereafter Zoey picked up herself up and gathered her belongings. Approaching the house, she paused at the door, shaking the odd feeling that particular portal to the house had been occupied not long before. Shrugging, she took the stairs up.

* * *

Francis removed the screen and crawled out onto the warm roof tiles through the second story window. He stood for a minute, looking both ways down the street for any signs of life before sitting and leaning against the siding of the house.

He hated suburban neighborhoods. They were always so creepy. Everyone living in the same houses, driving similar cars, kids going to the same brainwashing institutions. Talk about zombies, they were around in those suburban nests long before the infected were milling about.

Zoey grew up in a house like that, he knew it; although Louis probably did too, but he wasn't mad at Louis at the moment, so he got a pass. Not that Francis was a saint himself. Quite the opposite, but he was wound up so he didn't feel like moralizing his irritation with memories and anecdotes about his own behavior. The truth was he was emotionally exposed and it was a new feeling for him. Worst of all, he was purposely letting it happen. Being selfless, putting some other person's well being before his own was new, exhausting, and miserable. He briefly wondered what the point was if she couldn't stand to be around him, but it felt right, horrible, but right. Maybe she'd magically snap out of it, probably not, but a man could dream.

Leaning his head back against the house he looked up at the blank night sky. That was another reason he hated suburbia, you couldn't see the stars for shit. So many nights of his life had been spent out on the open road, driving in the twilight with no other companion but the moon and its starry friends. Dragged in by the group to the safety of towns and cities, he was cut off and feeling it.

The sound of the door to the room creaking open made him groan.

"Go away." He yelled from the roof. A head popped out the window and Francis repeated his groan. It was Zoey, freshly showered and in some temporary clean clothes, huge as they were on her slight frame. Her face was a mix of confusion, worry, and anger, like she didn't know what else to do with herself. He'd been her default companion for so long that she'd stuck her head out the window on reflex before she knew what she was doing. Throat dry, she put on her best demeaning tone and proceeded to shoot herself in the foot.

"What are you doing out here? Aside from not playing well with others."

"Manly... uh, lone wolf type stuff." He lied, failing miserably to mask his anxiety. Looking around she hoisted herself out the window and scooted next to him. He eyed her suspiciously. "What the hell do you want? I really don't feel like getting yelled at right now."

"Just... checking on you I guess." She said flatly, scowling.

Her tone sparked his temper. "Why?" He snorted and rose from his seat. "Nevermind. I'm too damn tired to fight with you." Francis said throwing up his hands then walked to the edge of the first story roof. The only thing he actually wanted was to be alone. His chest was aching and he needed a drink.

"Wait!" She cried, jumping to her feet.

"Damnit, what now?" Francis replied, exhaustion straining his voice.

"That doesn't mean I want to be alone!"

"Then go be with the others! Please just for the love of fuck, leave me alone!" He took one last exhausted look back, eyes nailing her in place. He hopped off the lowest part of the roof and landed on the soft lawn, rolled, then popped back up to his feet before walking intently down the street, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Wait..." She squeaked, trying to call him back but newly budding spite and pride clamped her mouth shut. Who did he think he was running off like he was the one who'd been wronged? Why did she feel like the asshole? She was so confused it hurt. "I don't need you, I don't need you, I don't need you..." She repeated like a mantra, reminding herself of her end goal.

Clutching her head between her hands, she groaned. Her brain was starting to throb. She hated the situation and as she was coming to realize, at that moment more than anything else at that moment she hated herself. Climbing back in the window she made her way quietly down to the back of the house, stopping only to pick up her coat. Sighing, she walked out on the deck and sat back against the house wanting to avoid being in the cheerful company of the others. Wallowing in her own misery was indulgent and immature... but she didn't care. At all.

"Zoey? What the heck are you doing out here by yourself in the dark?" Louis's voice cut through the air as he stuck his head out of the sliding door. So much for being alone.

"Being a hot mess."

Louis set down his drink and awkwardly lowered himself beside her to sit back against the house.

"Since when do you wait to do that in the dark?" He joked lightly, arming his infectious smile.

Zoey wanted to laugh, but she was so tightly drawn, she probably would have just started crying. Seeing the distraught look on her face, Louis frowned.

"Ok, you've been red lining all damn day. What's wrong?"

After bitterly rubbing her eyes, she pulled her knees up to her chest. "It would take way too long to explain."

"Well, I know you and Francis are at ends with each other."

"Or maybe not."

"You honestly think Francis is the only one that pays attention to you?" He chuckled warmly, squeezing her shoulder. "You've been all doom and gloom since you got back from the bank, and Francis has been... extra Francis-y. So go ahead and tell me the cliff notes version."

"I have not been doom and gloom."

"Whatever. I'm just waiting for the black makeup."

"Shut up!"

"Just sayin." He shrugged defensively, drawing a reflexive smile out of his young friend.

"Just sayin, my ass." She laughed, feeling like it had been forever since she'd even smiled. It was so easy to take Louis for granted at times. He was so kind and generally soft spoken that aside from when Francis was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, it was easy to forget he was even around. Zoey frowned again. Yet another item to add to her list of failures.

"Again with the frowning?" Louis sighed, "This must really be eating at you."

"Honestly, I'm just trying to come to terms with the fact that I am a nothing but a leech." She paused, noticing Louis's smile fade away. "I take so much from you guys and have practically nothing to give in return."

Narrowing his eyes, he focused on her face, trying to figure out if she was joking. She had to be joking. "That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard."

Embarrassed, Zoey looked down at her hands. "You're right, it's selfish. I should have kept it to myself."

"Oh no. Nonono. Look at me Zoey. We're going to take care of this shit right now. Why on Earth are you keeping score?"" He demanded. Timidly, she looked over and cowered under his very serious and rare scowl, reminding her of her mother. As a teen Zoey would get into fits of self pity when the girls at school teased her about developing a little late. Flat as a board and straight hips was no way for a girl to go through her teen years. Thankfully her mother would get that same righteous scowl and set her straight. Even if everything grew in over the summer of her junior year like her mother predicted, that lingering bit of self consciousness still plagued her from time to time, and just like when she was a teen she hid in her coat, zipping it up tight to hide from her problems.

"Score? I don't understand-"

"Score. You are counting "owes". I saved your ass X times. You saved my ass Y times. So the score is X to Y. then I have a deficit of 3, so it is X-3 to Y or-"

"English, Louis. English!" Zoey whined, her head throbbing at the math lesson. So much for being out of school. If he continued down that path she was going to start having flashbacks, maybe even break out in a pimple or two.

"Right. English." Louis grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sometimes he forgot the world wasn't just another piece of code or a math equation to normal people. Feelings were objective, not able to be quantified or categorized; and generally were baffling as hell. "Didn't you learn basic-"

"Don't go there, Stumpy."

"Right. Right. Sorry." Thinking for a second to come up with an analogy he chuckled at Zoey's huffy, indignant stare. "I know you're not stupid, Zoey. It's just habit for me."

"Fine." She conceded, dropping her defenses again. She had no interest in being lectured on the failures of the public school system, or her complete disinterest in retaining basic Algebra. Unlike Louis, she did not have a blackboard in her head to write and deconstruct equations at will.

"Ok, I got it now. No math, I promise."

"Ok."

"You're keeping score. How often I do things for you or Francis, vice versa, and so on. You think it should be even. When someone does something for you, you feel it's right to ensure a payback, but you're finding you can't keep up, in fact it's impossible. You're not as strong or tough as Francis. You do not possess my mental faculties."

Zoey withdrew a bit into herself, squeezing her knees tighter to her chest. "Oh wow. I feel so much better now." She mumbled into her arms.

"Zoey, can it for a minute, alright?" Louis said sternly, grabbing her shoulder. "We are all very different. Francis is a workhorse with tunnel vision and a determination that would shame a pitbull. I'm a geek that's compelled to plan each second of everyday. We are all so different that comparing is unfair. Besides, friends just don't keep score."

"But what kind of friend am I if I can't give anything back?"

He smiled softly then started clicked his prosthetic on the deck. "Really? Is that your final answer? You're fearless, you keep us focused, you're... I can't find the right word."

"Francis says I'm the sticky shit." She offered sourly.

Louis grinned. "You know, I think that's it. He's quite a cowboy poet at times."

Zoey straightened up, distraught at his conclusion. "You better be kidding. I don't want to be sticky!"

"But you are. Know why?"

Zoey's face softened and she leaned back against the house, willing to listen. As opposed to Francis's twisted logic, it might actually make sense coming from Louis. "Ok, I'll bite."

"Who dragged us through the rain when Bill died? Who cut off my leg with vet supplies? Who keeps sewing Francis back together? For the love of God, Zoey, who convinced Francis to stay with us in the first place?"

"It really didn't take much."

"Bullshit. He didn't want to stick around and said so every opportunity he got. I was too terrified to even look at him straight, but you... you chatted him up like he was one of your girlfriends. I think he spent that whole first week with us out of sheer disbelief that you weren't scared of him. I almost choked on my food when he started joking back with you, then damn near died when he started ripping it up with Bill and I. That was all you."

"Sticky shit." She sighed futilely.

"Human glue." Louis finished wistfully, leaning his head back against the house. He amused himself greatly with that one. When he didn't hear her break down in compulsive laughter at his witty conclusion, he peered over at her. Her face was frozen in open mouthed shock. "Are you alright?"

"I honestly don't know if I should hit you for being crazy or lame as hell."

Louis patted her arm and laughed. "Regardless, I'm right. Anyway, no more keeping score, alright?"

"Fine."

Louis thought for a second and wondered, "What got you all worked up about that anyway?"

"Because he told you about Nick and... not me." It felt ridiculous coming out of her mouth.

"Well, it wasn't really a likelihood that we'd ever see them again. In Francis world it probably didn't seem that important."

"I know that now!"

"Only reason he told me is because he was explaining about running from the mob."

Zoey groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Not helping."

"Perspective is a bitch, isn't it?"

"Heartlessly so." Zoey sighed, pushing up from the wall. "I need to find him and apologize."

"Woooah now. Don't you go running off into the dark. You've exercised enough crazy for one day." Louis warned, climbing awkwardly to his feet as well. "He'll be back. You can make nice then."

"Louis! you don't understand, I made him _mad._ He's extra stupid when he's mad, and he took off down the street alone." She explained, pointing hopelessly in the direction he walked.

"Zoey. It's _Francis._ If he's that pissed off, you really think a few zombies are going to slow him down? And do you think it's wise to put yourself in that mix when it's dark out?"

"I guess not." She sighed, crossing her arms.

"In the mean time. Go enjoy the food and drink. Who knows, maybe he's just off pouting in a corner."

Zoey snorted. "Maybe... probably."

* * *

Francis wandered into the first house around the corner he came to. It didn't draw him for any particular reason, he was just too lazy to go much farther down the block. Thankfully the front door was already open so that saved him time and energy. One of those days he had to steal his lock pick set back from Louis the budding burglar. Walking down the main hall of the oversized home he tried to avoid looking at the family portraits of the former occupants, it made the whole situation less demoralizing. Rounding the corner he paused in surprise and blatant irritation when he reached the kitchen. Turns out the house was already occupied.

"Oh, come on! Really! What the _hell_ are you doing here?" He roared. It was just who he didn't want to run into, but in that moment he made a great exception because his hands were itching to pummel something.

"Me?! I was here avoiding people first, greaseball!" Nick fired back, jumping up from the breakfast bar.

Francis picked up the nearest object to him, a vase, and tossed it to the ground in challenge and it shattered on the bamboo flooring. Taking a menacing step forward, Nick to finished his drink and respond in kind, but it had less of an impact as his plastic cup bounced and rolled away. Francis watched it, not knowing if it was appropriate to laugh when he was getting ready to level some pent up aggression.

"...Impressive."

"It's not easy to have a bar fight in an upper middle class kitchen." Nick said defensively. Francis rolled his eyes in reply then leapt forward, tackling him over the large oak dinner table.

"The first rule of bar fight club", Francis grunted as they grappled, "Don't talk about bar fight club!"

Nick inhaled sharply as a knee connected with his stomach. Jumping to his feet he was just a split second faster as he connected a right hook and sent the larger man toppling over the island to crash to the other side.

"What's the second rule?" Nick gasped as Francis planted his hands on the counter and flew back up over the island with a boot in the air. It impacted Nick's chest with a thud and sent him sprawling into the hallway.

"Hold still so I can hurt you!"

Nick righted himself with a groan and whipped off the white suit coat. Francis was injured, so he had a chance to possibly gain the upper hand, he just had to keep that giant fist from making contact with his face. That was the game ender. Jumping to his feet he charged Francis. Nick wrapped his arms around his waist and tackled him to the ground. They skid to a stop against some cabinets and Francis used a leg to throw him off. Pouncing on him before he could right himself, Francis raised a fist and cracked Nick in the jaw.

_Fuuuuuuuuuck._

With just one punch Nick's world erupted into stars. Even though Francis was underweight it still was like getting hit by a truck.

"I see... why you're so good... at your job." He choked, trying to stop the room from spinning. Francis snarled in response, holding his fist back menacingly.

"I quit! Do you hear me?! I don't want to have anything to do with the Organization! If you call me in again I swear I'll make your last minutes painful ones!"

He stood from the Italian and took several steps back, ready to start in again. Nick shakily pushed himself up and leaned back against the cabinets, alternating gasping and laughing.

"Call you in!? Why the hell would I call you in?"

Francis stared at him dumbly, dropping his guard. "Uh...what?"

"You _stupid_ monkey. Then they would know _I'm_ alive! You're not the only one that wants out of that forsaken hell hole! I thought you were going to call _me_ in! Remember when I was in jail for two years and they did jack shit to get me out?"

Francis crouched over, still several feet away, trying to get a look into the man's eyes. "You're serious." He stated plainly.

"Damn right I am! Look, the only difference between you and I is that you had the balls to run. That's the whole reason they never picked you off." Nick breathed, leaning his head back against the hollow wood door.

"Why would you want out? You're part of the main family."

"So? That means jack shit. I was still forced to do things I'd never dream of. I've _murdered_ men, Francis." He finished tiredly with a tight edge to his voice. Francis crossed his arms and listened quietly. "I just can't do it anymore. Cleaning up after you, plus my own shit." Nick said with a haunted sigh. "I'm worn out."

"Huh." Francis furrowed his brow, unsure if he should trust his answer, but not really having any good reasons not to. They were in the same crappy sinking boat. "One more thing."

"The Mission." Nick offered, snapping his fingers as if reading his mind. Francis nodded. Taking a deep breath Nick donned a crooked grin. "I'm proud of this one. I never told the Org about it."

Francis's eyes widened and he felt a large weight lift from his shoulders. "You mean..."

"Safe and sound. Well, before the infection I assume. It was good you heeded my warning though. Eventually they would have figured out I was lying. _Again_."

Francis closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. Often he lost sleep wondering about the fate of those people. Uncomfortably he looked directly at Nick. "I will only say this once. _Thank you_."

Nick's eyebrow popped up in surprise. "Huh. You actually cared about those kids and geezers. I certainly had you pegged wrong."

"Same here." Francis admitted and stood to offer a hand up to partly incapacitated man. "So uh, what were you drinking in that toddlers' sippy cup?"

Nick considered the neon cup for a split second. Clasping his hand firmly, Francis hauled him easily to his feet. "Anything I could find. Mostly open bottles of stale wine. Fuck you hit hard." Nick rubbed his jaw as he righted a chair and resumed sitting at the breakfast bar. His head freshly pulsated with the rush of blood.

Francis raided the cupboards until he found the stash of hard liquor above the fridge. "In any house with kids, parents always hide the good stuff in the cabinets above the fridge."

"You don't have kids. How do you know that?"

"We hid in a few houses getting out of Penn. Some fucked up shit, isn't it?" Francis said, shaking his head. He popped open a couple tequila and rum bottles. It was an odd feeling to be sitting down to have a drink with his former enemy, but in those times he'd had stranger experiences.

"You're telling me. You guys get the ones with the bullfrog tongues?" Nick asked pouring some rum into his reclaimed yellow sippy cup.

"Yeah, nasty fuckers. How about the pukers?" Francis asked as he obtained the only other cup readily available in the cupboard, a pink sippy cup.

"Yes." Nick confirmed then downed the cup and coughed despite his efforts to resist it. "How about the ones that ride you like a damned horse?"

"Not until we saw you on the bridge."

"Huh. Probably as far north as they made it. When we were in Alabama those damn monsters were so hungry they had started eating and attacking each other. You're probably not going to believe me but I saw one of those little face humpers jump on a tank and slowly scratch it to death. Turns out those big ass tanks have a very limited range of motion. If something gets on its head it can't reach it."

"No kidding." Francis replied with astonishment, taking his own shot.

"Yeah." Nick said dryly, his shoulders dropping in irritation. "We practically had to sedate Ellis to keep him from trying."

"Good to know."

"I also feel it's an appropriate time to tell you, Ellis is damn near in love with that girl you got."

Francis clenched his jaw. "I don't have a girl."

Nick hiked up an eyebrow while pouring another round. "Could have fooled me." Setting down the bottle, he huffed a breath of frustration. Might as well tell him. "Not that I care, but I heard your fight."

Francis stiffened and leveled an irritated stare at the Italian. "Old habits die hard, don't they?"

"Please, you were whining so loudly, they probably heard you in China. Anyway, not that I care-"

"You already said that."

"Just, fix it."

"What?"

"You heard me. Fix it."

"There's nothing to fix."

"Look, I'm trying to help you out here. If Ellis sees an opening, he'll take it. Things could get messy, and I am sick to death of messy. We just can't afford it right now. If she returned ANY of his advances I wouldn't bother, but she's cynical and colder than a witches-"

"Watch it!" Francis snapped.

A wry smile bloomed on Nick's face. "Testy. You only have two options her. Fix it or convince her to fall in love with Ellis. They're young and stupid so love, fate, and gooey eyes is the kind of shit they both believe in. They're appropriate in a contrived Disney way for each other, so at the very least it would be entertaining." He finished with a disgusted wave, the thought making him nauseous. Emotions and feelings were just not high on his priority list, especially if it involved rainbows, unicorns, and sap. Nick's type was more of the beautiful and drunk variety.

"You go right ahead." Francis snorted. Zoey had a history of going against the grain and if anyone tried to tell her what to do with her life, she'd outright reject it. You'd have better luck telling grass to turn pink. "I sure couldn't get her to hit the road, so you're probably shit outta luck."

Nick startled and coughed on a sip of his drink. "Wait, she went after you?"

Francis shrugged.

"That's just not fucking fair. What the hell is it about you that women lose their shit over?" Nick said with a flush of irritation.

"I do abso-fucking-loutley nothing." Francis explained truthfully. "They're like blood hounds, can smell liars a mile off. So I do nothing."

"Bullshit."

"Serious."

He had a point. Even with other people, it seemed to be a solid tactic. Coach, Rochelle, and Ellis were probably the closest things he'd had to friends his entire life and they knew from day one what he was. When the shit was constantly hitting the fan, there was no time to pretend to be a upstanding citizen. "Well, damn."

"One thing is for sure, they do not like surprises, that's what got me into the mess to begin with." Francis finished with a groan.

"What was the surprise?"

"You." Francis glared, reminded again of his predicament. "She thinks I was hiding information about you from her." He paused and sat up straight, suspicion pooling in his stomach. "Why the hell am I telling you any of this, like we're some old buddies? I _hate_ you!"

Gleefully, Nick pointed at Francis. His discomfort was delicious. "Because we are the closest thing we'll ever have to _old buddies_."

"Oh, God. Shoot me."

"Unclench, Francis. It wasn't like you ever had friends."

Francis's eyes flashed with anger. "Here's the funny thing, _Nick_, I did, but anytime I got to liking someone, or people, you suits fucking murdered them! I stopped trying so no one else would get killed!"

Nick roared in reply. "Hey! Hey! I didn't start on your trail til long after you tried the solo gig! That church mission was the longest you ever hung around any place during my term. We didn't even know Tony was picking off civilians til he was on trial, and we let him fry for it. I have never killed an innocent person, all the bastards I smoked had it coming. So yes, you got fucked hard. I'm sorry, alright?! I. Am. Sorry!"

Francis slowly squeezed the plastic cup, the sides cracking in complaint under the stress. Men, women, and an old man, their names burned into his memory, permanently tattooed on the underside of his arm. While in prison skulls tattooed on the skin referred to murders committed, Francis has them put on his skin as grisly reminders of ended lives that were his responsibility. Rolling his arm over he placed it on the table, facing it towards Nick. Nick saw a jumbled cloud of seven names, and leaned in. Reading them out loud, a memory stirred.

"Carlos, Maria, Spencer, Henry, Aria, Tim. I know those names. They were on the victim list at Tony's trial." But there was one more, he'd never heard before, and as he spoke it, Francis flinched. "Who is Vernon?"

Pulling back his arm, Francis picked up his cup and took a drink, his face stone. "A rancher. Gave me my first job as a kid, rustling mustangs and steer when my parents weren't getting the bills paid. First time I tried to run from the org, I went back to Elko like an idiot. Verne offered me a job again, wouldn't take no for an answer. Stupid old man." Francis trailed off at a whisper and took another drink. Slowly, Nick sat back down, quietly listening. Eyes flashing momentarily in grief, Francis's face hardened again into a scowl before he continued.

"A couple months passed, I thought I was in the clear and was perfectly happy tending to the stock. Then some guido in a suit shows up. I was out on the range wrangling some new horses when I heard gunfire from the ranch. First some pistol rounds, then Verne's shotgun. I got back as fast as I could and found Verne on the ground out the back door, crawling in the dirt. He forced me to run on his bike while that asshole fired at me. I found out a week later in the papers that twisted fuck burned the entire ranch down. Shot all the animals, and mutilated Verne's body. I was the number one suspect in his murder so I just kept running."

"Fuck." Nick said then whistled, the details of the trial refreshed in his mind. "We let that monster run rampant. He didn't want to catch you. You were his excuse to kill."

"How was he caught?" Francis asked quietly.

"Aria. He lost track of you the last time when you skipped town. He went after her after you were left and lost his marbles. The police showed up when the neighbors in her apartment complex called about strange noises. He was still there, playing with the remains. They connected it with a string of murders across the country. It turns out, you hadn't been moving fast enough for his growing taste, so he started leaving a trail of bodies that you had nothing to do with. There were six more people you never even met."

Francis widened his eyes. "After Verne, he never showed his face again so I thought there was a group of you after me. If I had known it was just one man...shit. I should have stopped him myself."

"_No_. If we were aware of his actions, we would have dealt with it internally. As awful as the family is, we were never in the business of serial murder, it's bad for business. No wonder you were so damn spooked when I approached you at the mission about coming back."

"I thought you were going to burn it down."

"I can see why." Nick sighed and leaned back into his chair, releasing Francis's arm. Finishing off his drink, he looked at the ceiling then back to Francis. The much larger man appeared so tired as he gently thumbed at the old ink on the inside of his forearm, deep in reflection. "Look, if I ever get run down. I'll tell them you're dead and that I did it myself. And you don't have to worry-"

"About what?" Francis lifted his head curiously. Nick's face was serious. No pretense, no deception.

"I will protect yours like they are my own."

Francis reached out across the table and held out his hand. "Same." Nick considered it thoughtfully and smiled, gripping it back tightly and shook.

"Alright."

Francis stood from the counter and went back to the alcohol cabinet. Pulling out as many bottles as he could carry he set them on the breakfast bar with loud clanking. Nick raised an eyebrow.

"What's this for?"

Francis chuckled. Digging through the cabinets he pulled out some real glasses and returned to the bar.

"Deal won't be sealed til we get fall down drunk."

Narrowing his eyes, Nick picked up a glass and examined it, then raised it in cheers to Francis. "I like the way you think. This just might be the beginning of a miserable toleration."


	13. Pieces

Note: I had to correct an error a couple chapters back. I meant for Francis to lose his shotgun when saving Ellis from the hunter. All chapters should correlate now. This chapter is obscenely long. It just kept growing and is practically a story within itself. Enjoy and thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone for all the favs, follows, hits and reviews! For some reason readership is picking up very rapidly, I don't know why, just want to tell everyone I appreciate it :)

* * *

**Chapter 12: Pieces**

It was agonizing. Every ten seconds he checked the clock, watching the second hand move tick by tick, sure beyond a doubt it was teasing him.

"Oh come on work you piece of-!"

"I bet you broke it." Zoey snickered. Idly she thumbed her glass and took another drink, relishing the fire in her blood. She sat kitty corner to Louis at the dining table while he attempted to verbally berate the computer into working shape. Filling the other seats, Ellis, Rochelle, and Coach animatedly went at a game of Gin Rummy. "You could always kick it. That's what I do."

"Don't even joke."

"Will you really lose your shit if you can't Nancy Drew that laptop?" She asked lazily as the minimum charge finally was accepted by the machine and it powered to life.

"I prefer Holmes." Louis informed her, distracted already by the boot sequence and BIOS flashing to life on the screen. "And I think it might be beneficial to know what's on here."

"Whatever Nancy." She repeated, realizing he was already off to the races, his fingers abusing the keyboard at a rate that made her already buzzing head spin. "What's the big deal about this thing anyway? You've been hoarding it since we left North Carolina. I mean, it's not exactly useful to carry a five pound paperweight."

"Well, remember when we were talking about CEDA at the hunting store?"

Zoey nodded, resting her chin on her elbows. "Yeah, you were saying you'd never heard of them before."

Louis spun the screen to face her once the desktop of the primary operating system loaded. Zoey sat up, suddenly very alert. "You gotta be shitting me." On the screen was a background image of the CEDA logo. "Where the hell did you even get this thing?"

"Howard had it. While you and Francis were off trying your very best to get killed he asked me to break into it and I found some seriously interesting crap." Initializing a few programs, images popped to life on the screen with mountains of chemicals and codes that were outright gibberish to Zoey.

"What is all of that?"

"From what I can see, this is some DNA sequencing and chemical compounds. It's too raw for me to understand."

"What could it be?"

"Not sure. I'm no biochemist, but from what I can pull out of the metadata I know that some of these files are old. Several years old at that."

Across the table the other three went silent and focused on Louis. Rochelle put her cards down and leaned on the table intently.

"That doesn't make sense. Why would CEDA have years old information on the infection?"

"Well, there's no certainty that this is even about the infection." Louis countered objectively.

"CEDA didn't exist prior to the infection," Coached added, "So if you have information on a CEDA laptop, I'm pretty sure it's about the infection."

"Any of you Clark Kents have secret biochemist powers?" Zoey asked, but everyone shook their heads.

"Sound engineer, but if you find any mysterious sound bites on there, I'm on it." Rochelle joked lightly.

"Math teacher and football coach." Coach laughed, pointing to the school logo on his shirt.

"Mechanic." Ellis said and gestured to his hat. "That's my shop."

Zoey turned back to Louis. "Work your magic, I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"Saving it for the morning. I just wanted to make sure it was still working." Louis sighed, setting the laptop on the counter to continue charging. Returning to the table, he focused on the mess of cards at the center. "You guys have a game for five?"

Zoey yawned and stood. "Make it four. I'm gonna go get friendly with the couch."

* * *

Ellis squirmed in his seat. He couldn't sit still, but it wasn't due to an over abundance of energy, it was because of the expectant glances he was getting from his friends.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Rochelle asked, shuffling the deck. "Got ants in your pants?"

"No, ma'am." He said tightly, peering over his shoulder.

"Well go talk to her." Louis suggested, catching the direction of the young man's gaze while strategizing his next move on the board. Rochelle bit her tongue, knowing it wasn't a good idea, but strangely Louis seemed absolutely clueless as to how such a suggestion might not be in Ellis's best interests.

Ellis groaned internally, but didn't want to disappoint anyone. "I, uh, guess so."

"You don't have to, sweetie." Rochelle offered.

"Naw, I should get this out of the way."

Coach raised an eyebrow and looked to Rochelle who grimaced as Ellis set down his cards and slowly tread towards the kitchen. This was not the same kid that radiated excitement about the girl from the bridge. In fact, for weeks after that short meeting with Zoey and her friends, Ellis just wouldn't shut up about her. Even if he'd only exchanged a couple lines with her and admired her from a distance, he'd been convinced she was some sort of post apocalyptic dream girl. Then, just as Coach fully expected, after a week of direct interaction he'd gotten a full taste of who she was, and it was quite a bit different than the sweet damsel he'd imagined up on the catwalk, damn near opposite actually.

"Get it out of the way? Ooh, boy. That's just not going to end well." Coach breathed as he raised his cup to take a sip.

Rochelle sighed and shook her head back at him. "You have no idea."

Louis perked up. "Why not?"

The man was so incredibly bright yet somehow so blind. Rochelle chuckled and patted his arm affectionately. "No reason, it's your turn."

Nervously, Ellis stopped to mix a drink. Making sure no one was looking, he took a very long drag off a vodka bottle. Shaking his head to help the burn fade, he took a deep breath.

He didn't want to go talk to Zoey. Maybe he should have listened to Rochelle and just... did nothing. After a week of living side by side with her and her friends she was the last person he wanted to be alone with. He wished he hadn't idealized her so damn much after the bridge, and part of him was starting to wish they'd never found her again. It wasn't just his ideal that had been shattered, it was what she had represented: the glimmer of hope that good things still existed in the world. He didn't really know what else to latch onto and put on that pedestal he reserved for things and people that made him want to get up in the morning. He'd lost that intangible faith and it really hurt. It was like meeting your favorite actor and finding out that they were a total ass.

That day back at the bridge she was like a beautiful angel raining down death from above. Holding that gun and shooting infected she seemed so alive, but in retrospect he knew that was not a good thing. In person she was nothing like the well mannered southern girls he grew up with. Hell, she was a far cry from Rochelle's dignified and nurturing ways. Sure she was cute, but dammit, she was negative, cynical, sarcastic, and mean to Nick. Hell, after the cold way she'd treated her own team over the last day, he wasn't sure if he'd get his head bitten off just talking to her.

When it came down to it, she was a dude. A dude with boobs and pretty eyes.

Maybe if he talked to her and looked hard enough he'd find bits of what he wanted to be there. After all, his prospects were dim. It was pretty much Zoey or Rochelle, and Rochelle treated him like he was still in training underwear. Or he could go talk to one of those witches...

Ewww, necrophilia.

"Here goes nothing. Help me out here, Keith." He mumbled under his breath and downed his drink.

Clumsily he shuffled over to the couch, laying his hands shyly on the back of it. "Uh, hey."

Zoey's eyes fluttered open and she sat up abruptly, decidedly surprised. "Oh, uh, hi Ellis?"

He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. Zoey raised both her eyebrows and watched him expectantly.

She was staring again with that look that just made him feel stupid. Frowning he hiked a thumb at the sliding door. "Can I talk to you?"

"Umm, ok?" She agreed groggily, tossing a sidelong glance through the kitchen at the others playing cards. What the hell exactly was going on? "Just let me get a drink quick."

"Ok." He shrugged and opened the sliding door. Zoey went into the kitchen and sighed hard as she pulled some ice out of the freezer. She was beyond apprehensive, not knowing what to expect. Was this a ploy to make a sloppy attempt at romance and relive their flirtations at the bridge? He must have had no idea just how bitter she still was about their desertion, and her own humiliation at allowing herself to be taken for a ride. Her father had once told her that actions defined a man, and what that day said about Ellis was not something to get excited about, even if she had absorbed the attention like a dry sponge.

Once upon a time a guy like Ellis was probably her type. According to the stale magazines and newspapers still entombed in stores he was the desirable sort, because when it came to the skin deep attributes he had a high score. He was closer to her age, attractive, had a nice smile, untamed hair, flat stomach, and probably a truck at some point. It was very shallow list of positives. He had shot one liners at her that made her heart flutter, but that was the extent of it. After five-minutes worth of conversation, he got her to give up what he wanted then left without offering more help than to propose she leave with them and desert Francis and Louis.

Regardless of where her relationships stood with either Louis or Francis on that day one very certain fact remained, Zoey was not fickle. She was not a girl that jumped vines just because shiny objects were waved in her face. She stayed with Francis and Louis at the bridge _because_ they were family, _because_ even when they heard the offer from right beside her neither put up a single word of complaint, _because_ the both of them had earned it. She'd die before she'd left them behind and have less than considerate words for those who would intend to break them apart. It didn't matter how damn _appropriate_ Ellis was for her. First impressions were a bitch, and when you got on her bad side, so was Zoey.

_Appropriate_. Her mind grappled with the word. Appropriate things had never been what she wanted anyway. She was a college dropout that watched B grade horror flicks for fun and thought that shooting zombies was great entertainment. Appropriate would have been to actually try at school and get a degree in something, marry some doctor, lawyer or heartthrob, and pump out a slew of brats... like her mother did. Her mom married the innocent cute guy based on aesthetics, then divorced him after years of unhappiness. She had been dead inside, and Zoey knew it when she flew the coop on her daughter's graduation. Her obligation had been filled, and she was off looking for new territory elsewhere. As much as she loved her mother, she was _not_ her mother.

She would entertain what Ellis had to say out of sheer courtesy, but would be ready to come up swinging. After finishing making her drink, she walked past him out to the deck.

"So what's up, buttercup?" She asked wryly, leaning against the railing, stirring the cold liquid in her cup. The ice cubes clunked flatly against the plastic sides of the container.

Ellis was tongue tied as her icy gaze stared into his soul. Awkwardly, he searched for his voice.

"Are you ok?" Zoey was unnerved by his silent fidgeting. _Does he have to poop?_

As he tried to gather his wits she noted gladly that he no longer inspired the slightest twinge of excitement in her gut. That shy school boy crap just didn't cut it. She liked her men boisterous, fun, and looking for trouble and a good time. Fuck butterflies, hearts, and rainbows; she wanted heat and electricity, she wanted a challenge. She wanted her partner to have the same fire in his eyes when he looked at her as she did when she looked at him. Ellis was just a puppy.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I'm just trying to figure out how to say it."

"I see," Zoey sighed. She definitely wasn't a little girl anymore. Maybe in another reality where no zombies had ravaged the world, Ellis would have potential for her. Then again, in that world she'd be a depressed glob of humanity trying to cope with the disappointment of her parents as she lived out her entire life in the state of Pennsylvania. She shuddered at the thought. It was possible she may just eventually hit the road to try out life on her own terms... like Francis. Maybe she would have even crossed paths with him in that universe...

"The sky is pretty." He choked with an expression that further threw Zoey for a loop. He looked like he wanted to punch himself or puke.

"Yes. The _star_ is beautiful." She murmured. _Small talk, really? I could be trying to sleep right now. _The light pollution in the housing development was strong enough to block out a good portion of the night sky. It was nothing like the blanket of stars over the cabin north of Asheville, on the firefly mountain looking over Riverside, or out on the open roads Louis guided them down.

Ellis's face twisted in resentment at her tone. She was such a smartass. Why the hell would he ever want someone so contemptuous? He was having a hard time recalling exactly what it was that he was so drawn to at first. "Not as pretty as you." He followed up mechanically. _Oh my God, what the hell am I doing?_

"Uh, thanks?" She said uncomfortably, waiting cautiously for his next move. She wasn't cautious enough.

"Uh, I love you?"_ Why, God? Why do I do this to myself!?_ Ellis looked around like someone had dared him to say it. Zoey promptly sprayed the contents of her mouth over the railing.

"What!?"

"I don't know why I said that!"

"Ellis! You can't fall in love with someone after awkwardly talking for five minutes! I don't even know you! The _only_ thing that happens at first sight is LUST and it's fleeting!" She spat, slamming her cup on the railing.

"I know!"

"Then what the hell do you think you are doing talking to me like that?!"

Ellis's shoulders dropped and he leveled a stare at her, might as well come clean. "Look, I had to try! It's pretty much you or Rochelle, and _that_ is not happening." He snorted, hiking his thumb over his shoulder at the house.

Zoey's boiler of a temper started whistling. Did he think that smoothed things over? She began slowly, in such deep disbelief she practically had to force the words.

"Oh... I see." Snapping, she stalked forward to grab his shirt, wide gray eyes staring down at her over the tip of his nose. Zoey's face contorted into a snarl and she hissed like a serpent as she spit her words. "You're the worst kind of guy, _Ellis_, You're cute and you know it! You've probably had all the attention you've wanted all your life just by placing a couple smiles here and there. Well let me tell you something, _Forest_, no woman in this world owes you a damn thing. You don't get a girl by _default_. It's not a privilege to shift your gears, no matter how much you might think so!" Shoving him she spun on her heel and began to stalk off.

_She's fucking crazy._ Leaning against the house, his heart pounded in his ears and he replied with a desperate air, trying to make things right. If she could just understand where he was coming from, she wouldn't be so mad. "I felt like I had some sort of obligation to try, you know, since I've been talking you up in my head, but you're just not that person!"

Zoey's eyebrows popped in surprise and she glared back over her shoulder. "You really think it's a good idea to keep going down this road?!" Would it be wrong to punch him? Words echoed in her head reminding her that there was no such thing as a fair fight.

"It would have been a disaster. I mean the only reason this came about is because we're roughly the same age, you're female, I'm male, you're alright lookin, but you're damn right, I don't even know you, and you're honestly so... so..."

"Say it."

"Crazy. Batshit crazy. There I said it and I can't take it back." He had other words too. She was dark, morbid, and little too attached to fire, which outweighed being strikingly beautiful. One needed to be a special kind of crazy to date a crazy, and she was not his brand.

"Good. I like knowing where I stand with people." She said, voice wavering with fury.

"Why?"

"Because I don't trust you, and I am now certain it was the right decision!" Zoey snapped and started to walk off.

"Wait! It's just a new experience for me!"

"What is?"

"I've never been... turned down."

"Why would anyone admit to that?" She eyed him suspiciously then crossed her arms. It would be best to make nice. Who knew just how long the journey out the keys would be, and making that trip with tension in the air would be torture. She'd have to be the adult, even if she did want to stick his head in a toilet and give him a swirly. "Whatever. I'm only going to say this once and you better put your thinking cap on before you open your trap. I forgive you, and I am willing to put this all behind us and never talk about it again. However, I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to forget what happened at the bridge."

"So you were in love with me?"

"No, Ellis! I'm still out of my mind mad at you guys for just taking off without offering some sort of help in return! Bill died that day, and Louis almost did too! And you know what? Bill is still there in that room right now, his dead body crumpled and abandoned like an animal! A fucking animal! We couldn't get down there and at least say goodbye and make him decent because you assholes left us the second that bridge went back down and we were in worse shape than when you arrived! If you'd stuck around, who knows what would have happened! Maybe Louis wouldn't have lost his leg! Maybe Bill could have been buried like the honored soldier he was! Maybe I would have even been _lucky_ enough to be the girl you_ talked up _in your_ po-dunk head._" She finished with biting sarcasm.

"I'm sorry."

"Are you, Ellis?" She demanded, "Or are you just buttering me up for the next time you guys need a quick out?" She stepped menacingly toward him. "Know what? I will not give you the opening. We are not your live bait."

"I swear it's-it's not like that!" He stuttered, desperately trying to find the words to deescalate her growing wrath.

"It's going to take more than pretty words to change my mind, Ellis. I won't make that mistake twice... shit my head hurts. I'm going for a walk."

Looking over to the sliding door Zoey stormed over, threw open the glass pane and whistled. Bill came trotting out. Ellis was dumbstruck again as she started down the stairs of the porch with the animal in tow. When she turned around the house and out of sight, Ellis leaned back on the railing. Picking up Zoey's drink he sniffed it and finished it off. Setting the cup back down, he sighed.

"Well, Keith, I think that went pretty well."

* * *

Having run out of liquor, Nick and Francis stumbled back to the main house, laughing like a couple of frat boys as they accidentally knocked over trashcans and tripped into bushes coming up the drive. Barreling into the front door of the house the room grew silent as Coach, Rochelle, and Louis looked up from their card game.

"Where the hell is everyone?" Nick barked with a half smile, unconsciously drawing attention to the shiner on his cheek in the brighter light. His hair fell in front of his eyes and he looked ten years younger.

Louis stood from the table with a very serious expression as Francis appeared, his own bruises apparent.

"This _is_ everyone. Zoey and Ellis are out." Coach replied, turning to look over the back of his chair.

Ignoring his gut jealousy, Francis threw an arm over Nick's shoulders and pointed his sippy cup at his head.

"We punched each other. We're friends now." Francis explained, looking pointedly at Louis. Louis nodded in understanding and his face lit up in usual fashion as he sat back down.

"Woah, woah. I never said _friends._" Nick retorted and glared at Francis. "We have a _deal_."

"Touchy." Francis laughed turning back to the others, curious at the silent stares. "What?"

The three at the table quickly returned to their card game as cabinets crashed and slammed in the kitchen while the pair of reformed thugs rummaged about. Nick would toss curses and jabs at his new _friend_ while Francis prodded and pushed him into mini fury tantrums. Rochelle, Coach, and Louis continued to exchange looks, giggles, and snorts until the two pulled up a couple extra chairs to the table and deposited several bottles of liquor and glasses. The card game, for what it was worth, was over.

"You two are such badasses with your big boy sippy cups." Rochelle teased.

"Say what you want, woman, but this damn thing doesn't tip over, it's like _magic_." Francis replied defensively, setting it on the table and giving a demonstration. "See that shit?"

"_Magic_, woman! You can't argue with magic." Nick affirmed.

Louis smashed his face into his palm. "Zombie apocalypse and these two survive. Darwin eat your heart out."

* * *

If it hadn't been lit, and she hadn't been mildly intoxicated, tired, and pissed off, she would have never entered the building complex on her own. Either way she was not going to just such a large mysterious building go unexplored, it was begging for it!

With both pistols drawn she started past the empty guard shack, noting curiously that the little bar thingy with stripes had been broken off. The complex was made up of about four buildings with a giant boxy warehouse at the middle. From where she walked, it seemed that the warehouse also had an open door with a light on inside. She may as well have been a moth.

"Let's go, dog."

Bill ran ahead, sniffing just about everything he came on. Zoey noticed in the low light the long masses sprawled out on the ground as she passed by, but she didn't really feel like getting a closer look. In her experiences, those were usually bodies, and she didn't care to see if they were still moving.

Coming up on the entrance she slowed her pace, looking off to both sides before she approached the wide open doors that could probably fit two trucks side by side through them. Not about to storm in, she crept up on the open frame, peeking inside to make sure she wasn't about to crash a party of live or dead people.

Nothing.

Holstering her weapons she looked down at the dog and shrugged.

"Sorry Bill, no one's home."

Strolling in, she took in the sights around her. So far it was boring industrial looking crap: shelves, unmarked boxes and crates, some heavy equipment.

Boring.

She tested a couple doors that lead deeper into the facility with no luck.

More boring.

Growing frustrated she found a door marked as the men's lavatory. Shrugging she opened the door and finally found something worth noting. One single infected stood at the back corner, staring at the wall.

"Finally!"

As expected, the word alerted the zombie and it spun around, unleashing a few shrieks and grunts before charging. Zoey pulled out one pistol and kneecapped it. It fell face first into the tile, trying to hobble back up to its feet until she took the other knee out as well. It just laid on the ground trying to pull itself along by its hands with unending tenacity.

Zoey knelt before it, pointing her pistol at its head, but she paused.

"Look at you, never giving up. I like that. What's your name?"

Zoey stood and walked past the creature to look around. She'd never been in a men's room before. Tilting her head at the sight of the urinals, she raised an eyebrow. They looked absolutely alien.

"Men and their special toilets. All that extra hardware just to pee. And they call _us_ high maintenance. That's bullshit. Don't you think so, Zombie?"

The infected still screeched, having managed to turn itself around in an effort to drag itself toward Zoey.

Zoey knelt again. "I'm going to call you Bob. Bob Zombie, not as cool as your cousin Rob, but you got some stuff going for ya. I bet the lady zombies would be all over you."

Bob merely gurgled in reply.

"No, I'm serious, I've seen a lot of zombies, and you're not bad as far as they go."

Somewhere in the back of her head she realized she was talking to an animated corpse, but she ignored it in favor of not giving a shit. Hiking out to the warehouse again she found a shelf and sat on it. Bob slowly made his way out the restroom, clawing and screeching as Bill jumped curiously around him, but never close enough to get caught.

"So here's the deal, Bob. I don't really want to kill you. I'm bored, I've pissed off a lot of people, and I can't sleep to save my life. I know, you think it's crazy that I can't sleep. Such a silly thing to have trouble with, right?"

Bob let out a particularly high pitched shriek.

"Well, thanks for your concern, but no I'm not going to tell anyone. Can't let anyone think there's something wrong with me, I mean, I'm talking to you so it's a distinct possibility they'd go down that road."

Zoey sighed. "Do you know what it's like to not sleep? Of course you do, you haven't slept since you died. Well, we can relate then. See, whenever I close my eyes I see all these horrible rotting zombie faces- no offense- and they try to eat me for killing them. Rude, huh? Some of them look like people I know. Some of them attack people I... uh, _care_ about and I can't stop them. It's really shitty."

Bob was getting closer so she stood and walked past him, finding another distant shelf to sit on. Resting her elbows on her knees, she lazily gestured with the pistol as she spoke.

"You know how that is? If I told people that, they'd think I was crazy. I can't have that, Bob. I need people to think I'm strong, or at least capable of taking care of myself. Can't give Ellis cause or opportunity to use me or the others as live bait. I really don't want Francis keeping an extra eye on me like I'm some invalid. Is that too much to ask?"

Bob gurgled loudly.

"Don't take his side, you're supposed to be _my _friend, and yes, I realize I'm talking to a brain dead sack of guts! Do you think I'm stupid? You can be a real jerk, Bob, you know that? I know Francis doesn't think I'm useless and I know I'm important to the group, Louis said so. But..."

She paused, taking a deep breath.

"But that's not the same as being needed. If I tell him I'm not sleeping... he'll never see me as anything more than a cute little girl that needs protecting. That's not my end goal. I'll figure out how to sleep on my own and show him I'm strong."

The infected spit and chomped, making an interesting smacking sound with its mouth. Zoey was not amused.

"Of course what he thinks matters, you stupid zombie! Why?! Because... _because_. Shut up, Bob. You don't know what the hell you're talking about, but I tell you what, I'm going to give you a gift."

Zoey stood and aimed her pistol down at the crawling zombie.

"The gift of what I so desperately need."

Squeezing the trigger, one solitary shot echoed throughout the warehouse. Zoey grimaced.

"Nice talking to you, Bob. Sweet dreams."

* * *

Francis never went more than a few minutes without secretly checking the clock and had stopped tossing back the hard stuff. He slowly grew silent with each passing quarter hour while worry and jealousy fought for supremacy in his intoxicated mind. The chatter between the others increased with each drink and story told about their previous lives.

Off to the left, Nick noticed Francis's edginess, and quietly toned back his intake as well. Something was up, and he'd noticed it too. Whatever the hell Ellis was doing was taking way more time than the kid generally had an attention span for. Who knew? Maybe Ellis did convince her to fall in love and they were off frolicking in the meadow of death.

_Right. _Nick snorted and laughed to himself, then took another sidelong glance at Francis. He was twitchy. Whenever Francis was twitchy, it meant he was about to run, fight, or both. The man had had an instinct for danger like a wild animal, and Nick had learned a long time ago that when this particular man sniffed the air and hit the road, it was best to take note. While trouble did follow him like a constant shitstorm he managed to always avoid the worst of it, and if you didn't take your leave when he did you spent two complementary years in prison for petty theft and assault. Yay. Memories.

Pushing heavily away from the table, Nick went over to the sink and downed three straight glasses of water. The alcohol would not metabolize any time soon, but he sure could help thin out the percentages and get his kidneys pushing fluid, then force absorb the liquor still sitting in his stomach into some food. Pulling out a box of crackers, he started pounding them as fast as he could swallow, drawing strange looks from Louis and Rochelle.

"What? I'm hungry."

Francis never had that problem. He was a fucking tank. It took alcohol poisoning levels in a normal person to even get him drunk. Lucky bastard.

Unconcerned with Nick's antics, Francis minded his own and stalked the clock.

Hour two passed and neither of them had returned, must have been having a great time. Walking over to the couch, Francis laid out and used his arms as a pillow until the sliding door flung open.

Bolting up at the sound Francis's blood ran cold when Ellis stepped in.

Alone.

"Where is she?" He demanded, scrambling up to the confused younger man. Quietly, Nick moved out of the kitchen.

"I don't know, she said she was going for a walk!" Ellis sputtered as he was backed into the corner.

"And you just let her go?!" Francis roared.

"She called Bill out. We thought she and Ellis were taking a trip." Louis said seriously, trying to fight the heavy curtain of intoxication.

"You useless assholes! The fucking dog is the only one around here with the sense to go with her? I'll find her myself! Which way did she go?" He demanded of the cowering youth.

"North."

"Francis!" Rochelle tried, standing, but he'd already picked up his katana and pistols and shot out the front door. Quiet at a ghost Nick picked up his AK and followed him out, not even registering on the radars of the others.

Straddling his bike, Francis checks his clips and secured the sword. Shuffling off to the left caught his attention and he pulled up his pistol with frightening speed. In the light of his gun was Nick, strapping on his rifle and climbing on his own ride. He was completely unconcerned with the fact that a deadly weapon was pointed at his head.

"The hell are you doing?" Francis barked.

"Made an accord, drank on it, and don't think better backup is available at the moment."

"Can you even walk a straight line, Suit?"

"Nothing but water and crackers the last two hours. Knew you were going to run." Nick replied with a tick of irritation as he checked his own weaponry.

"How?"

Nick laughed in the manner he saved for when someone said something particularly stupid. Glaring out of the corner of his eye, he slammed his pistol home in its holster.

"Because it was my job to know. We going or what?"

Francis grunted in reply, turned the ignition and his bike and tore off up the northern street, listening and watching intently for any movement. The Italian followed quickly behind him, forcing himself to be as alert as possible.

Instinctively Francis headed towards the looming building in the distance. Zoey had a curious streak that he could relate to. If he were drunk and angry he'd probably go break in somewhere big and interesting like that. Holding down the throttle, the bike sped up.

* * *

She watched Bob's remains forlornly, wishing she hadn't put him to rest just yet. Unfortunately he'd sealed his own fate by being such a mouthy asshole. What can you do? Sliding her pistol back into its holster with a huff, she started to wander about again, hopefully in search of another friend.

Echoes of memories bounced painfully and loudly in her head with each step, growing in volume until she stopped, pulled out her pistol and fired into the ceiling a few times.

"SHUT UP! All of you! I can't think!"

Gun in hand she stumbled her way over to another door, it looked like a break-room for the warehouse workers. Grunting she pushed the door open. A herd of _things_ stood there idly shuffling about, one vomited. Strangely, the majority of them were wearing white lab coats.

"Doctors? The hell are you all doing here? Seen any zombies?"

Every single glowing yellow eye turned on her all at once. Stomach lurching up into her throat, she choked out a few grunts as she backpedaled right into the doorframe she'd just entered. They all shrieked and screamed, locking onto the alluring thump of her heartbeat.

"_Balls_!"

Just like that, her right mind grabbed the wheel and steered her the hell out of the room, having the presence to shut the door before she took off with Bill hot on her heels. Splintered wood shot out onto the warehouse floor as the flood of infected spilled out.

Turning back with both pistols to empty her clips into the crowd, Zoey quickly realized she was outnumbered and under-gunned. She didn't even have an explosive! What the hell was she thinking?! Spinning on her toes she nearly tripped as she took off again. The only open door she could hide in was the restroom, and there was no way to tell if it had a lock on the inside, but she really didn't have an option.

Whipping the door open she shooed the dog in then pulled it shut.

No lock.

"Oh God... _oh God..._"

Pulling with all her might to keep it shut she soon realized infected still had no idea how to use a door. Pounding soon erupted on the heavy wood plank from the outside. It was only her great luck that firecode demanded that all doors swung exit-ward in a public building. Scrambling away from the entryway she huddled in the corner, pulling the dog tightly to her side.

If she wasn't so angry she would have cried. _Angry_ at Ellis for demanding things he didn't deserve. _Angry_ at Louis for being so nice. _Angry_ at Bill for having the audacity to die. _Angry_ at her parents for not being by her side. _Angry_ at Francis for making her feel so frail. _Angry_ at the face she saw in the in the mirror everyday.

Splinters of wood started flying off the door, and the hinges began to come loose under the stress. One screw fell to the ground, than another. Angry howls and grunts grew louder. A chunk of wood split off and a boney hand reached through.

Clutching Bill, she was too upset to be scared. She was still just so _damn angry_. Taking in a deep breath she screamed at the oncoming wave of death, the only thought that came to her fragile mind.

"YOU ARE HORRIBLE DOCTORS!"

* * *

The closer he drew to the complex he thought he heard the soft echo of gunfire. Adrenaline surged and he pushed the bike hard towards the source. He steered through the empty security stands and entered the inner core of buildings. Soon the source of the fire was obvious. Driving straight into the open warehouse doors he cut the engine and jumped off the bike before it even came to a stop, sprinting toward the distinct growing howl of infected. His bike slammed into a shelf with a crash, toppling to the ground with a loud rattle.

"Zoey! _Zoey_! Damnit, where are you?!"

He found the small horde scraping and pounding at a restroom door, having nearly destroyed it. Stepping in closer he heard muffled barking. It was Bill.

"YOU ARE HORRIBLE DOCTORS!" Zoey's voice shrieked through the hole in the wood.

Reaching up he unsheathed the katana, gripped it with both hands and grinned. Just what he needed, a little stress relief. There could have been a hundred of them and he wouldn't have minded. Heading straight for the door he raised the blade and brought it down on the arm of the infected reaching his dirty claw in the door and sliced it off, the limb disappearing inside the hole. With a hard shove he sent the closest few infected away from the door in an arc then rested the katana on his shoulder and set his stance.

It wasn't a baseball bat, but it would do.

"You know what? _I hate doctors_."

Descending into the mess he caught the attention of every single infected as he sliced a swath and ran out on the other side, leading them all away from the door to the middle of warehouse where he could maneuver much easier.

"I'm keeping distance." Nick's empty voice cut the air.

"Why!?" Francis barked while lunging forward. An infected jumped behind him, but before it could sink it's teeth in his neck it's head exploded in a pulpy mess with one well placed AK round.

"That's why."

"Got it."

Nick kept his weapon raised and aimed, but he had no interest in getting close to the human food processor. It wasn't often anyone got to sit back and watch Francis work, and Nick wasn't about to waste the opportunity. At a distance he enjoyed the sight, assisting when necessary, which wasn't often. A small regiment of about 15 common infected wasn't considerable enough to be a challenge to Francis based on what he'd witnessed in the past. Even in the midst of fully functional people, Francis was the wildcard. He seemed to know- _seemed to feel_- where the next attack was coming from and would react with freak speed and power before the majority of hits could land, and those that were lucky enough to find purchase usually glazed off or were shrugged off indifferently.

Though Francis was not without damage, quit the opposite. He had a bevy of wounds from those souls cunning or fast enough to render damage, because in the sheer amount of tangles he'd been in, the low percentage of people on his level added up. He'd been around the block more than a few times.

Rat-tat. Assist number two. Nick's face glinted, focusing on the physical poetry of extreme violence.

Francis swung the katana with ease and power, moved with it with a aptitude clearly honed with another instrument. He wondered briefly what that instrument was. Club? Knife? Staff? Each slice was not made with the intention to cut the target, but to demolish it. Each stroke accelerated through the body of its victim with such force that the pieces didn't fall to the ground until he was already on his next target.

Rat-tat-tat. Assist three and four. It was art.

When the last infected fell in two, lopsided head rolling away, Francis remained in place, eyes flicking left and right for more challengers to come out of the woodwork. Air puffed out of his nostrils and his shoulders clenched and twitched. Black rotten blood splattered all over his arms, face and shirt, and streamed off the katana blade to the floor.

Back at the door Zoey clung to the frame, hiding herself partially behind it. Halfway through the massacre she'd opened the door when the pounding had ceased and emerged to see what had drawn the bad doctors away. The sight of his large and powerful frame leveling the herd had been overwhelming, driving home the point Louis had made earlier.

They were all different. So very, _very_ different.

Bill broke free of her grasp and trotted out to Francis, the clicking of his nails snapping the hard features of the man to look over his shoulder out of the corner of his eye. Even from her distance she could feel the ice of his assessing glare. Surprisingly, the blade did not move to a defensive posture. With the simple variation in the sound of the dog's gait, he'd known it wasn't a threat.

Zoey squeezed the door harder. How could she have ever tried to put herself on the same level of physical expectation as him? More importantly, why was she scared? She'd seen him fight a hundred different times, sometimes screaming like a little girl when he'd been grounded and was taking a beating. Had he just been playing around all that time?

Shifting her gaze for just a second she caught Nick's cold stare, and he nodded directly at her, rendering his '_I told you so_' with his eyes. Features widening she looked back to Francis. Was it true? Was he a... a...

"A fucking _monster_. Still." Nick chuckled, aiming _monster_ at Zoey as he waded into the corpses. Francis didn't even acknowledge the statement, reaching over to wipe the katana on a lab coat then put it back in the sheath and strap it on.

"Asshole." Francis mumbled at Nick, then stood again, turning back to face Zoey. The second his gaze settled on her his features shifted so fast and so severely, it nearly shocked her into forgetting to breathe. In that instant he was a completely different person. The tension in his body fizzled, the ice melted from his eyes, and the boyish lopsided grin shot across his face. "Zoey! The ninja sword wasn't a fake!" He stepped carefully through the field of bodies, hopping over a few until he was at the door.

Coming fully into the light as he neared, relief bloomed on her face. Little did he know, her relief was not about being rescued, but because she'd come to the conclusion that she was right. That _animal_ out there killing the infected like flies wasn't who stood before her now. It was a shadow of the past, of the man known by the one who currently stood amongst the bodies.

Zoey knew. _Knew. _Her idiot was not a monster, but damn could he call one out if he needed to.

"You idiot. I told you Katanas are Samurai swords."

The insult bounced off of him like an insect. He was too wrapped up in his own joy that she was alive and unhurt to even hear it. "You ok?" He asked lowly so Nick wouldn't hear, concern splashing his face then fading away. "None of them vampires hurt you, right?"

Zoey sighed then leapt into his arms, wrapping her own around his dirty neck. He held her awkwardly, more than a little surprised at the sudden affection, especially in present company. Last couple times he saw her, she was ready to gut his man parts.

"I'm ok." Resting her chin on the span between his shoulder and neck, she glared back at Nick and smiled coldly. _I win, asshole. You're wrong and I still hate you._

Dropping back down to her feet, her mood quickly dissipated. A bloom of blood was forming on his nice new gray shirt over his stitches. Without warning she pushed the shirt up, fearing the worst. "You're bleeding!"

"Hey!"

"Damnit! You over did it and popped a couple stitches! What if they'd all popped and you got eaten!? You know fresh blood brings out the sharks!"

Francis snorted. "Well if you hadn't run off like some- _some moron_ it wouldn't have happened at all!"

He groaned internally, the afterglow of the rescue quickly fizzling. _So we're back to this._

She paused for a moment considering his tone, her entirely too eventful day, and the returning fury in her stomach. She just didn't have any more patience for interpersonal _anything_.

"Bite me, Francis. You're not my mother!"

"You could have been killed!" He preached angrily ignoring the petulant jab.

"What, now you're a chatty-Cathy? You're too tired to talk, remember?" She reminded him bitterly and spun on her heel to walk towards the door. She was so damn mad, and confused, and tired, and-and pissed off!

"It was dumb, Zoey! You we're getting attacked! If we hadn't shown up-"

"Whatever!"

"That's enough!" He yelled, voice echoing through the hollow rafters. Her heart nearly stuttered in shock as he continued. "Stop whatever this is that's making you a bitch!"

Stalling in her tracks she balled up her fists, closed her eyes. "I can't! I need to be strong on my own!"

Francis stalked over to continue the argument to Nick's dismay. It was as if they forgot he was even there while they continued bickering. About to open his mouth to tell them both to shut the hell up, Nick censored himself. Something was wrong. Narrowing his eyes he spun around looking for the source of a strange sound. Peeking over his shoulder he finally identified it. Soft sobbing started to echo in the hollow building just under the yelling.

"Shut up!" Nick hissed, waving a hand to silence them. Equally angered at being interrupted they took breaths to unleash their fury at him when the dog started a low growl.

Zoey jerked her head up, eyes wide and dry. "Oh. God."

Collectively they paled as blue fear locked their bodies stiff and perfectly still. The sound drifted in through the exit. Beside them Bill laid his ears back, stuck his tail straight up in the air and his low growl graduated to a snarl. One by one the hairs raised on his spine while his lips peeled back to reveal fierce white teeth, allowing the deep snarl to cut the air.

The sobbing grew louder.

"I don't have time for this!" Zoey hissed in annoyance. Francis looked around frantically, the echoing sounds bouncing around, making it impossible to truly locate her.

"Witch wasn't on my to do list either!"

"Shut up!" Nick hissed again, instinctually retreating one step at a time from the door.

Bill started stalking towards the darkness outside the door. Zoey saw it and tackled the dog, pulling it to the ground, but he had locked in with his nose. He could see in scent what they could not yet visually pick up with their eyes, and it was torturing him. The smell of decay mixed with unnatural life was confusing for his nose. Dead things were for eating. They did not move, they did not seep aggression, sorrow, and hunger like his living humans. The thing in the dark was a monster, a horrible monster.

Francis took one slow step forward against the warning of his thundering heart beat. Zoey struggled to hold the animal as it twisted to get away. She could let him go, but he'd be filleted in seconds.

Like two embers, a set of red eyes popped open in the veil of black, focusing on the throbbing life forces of those things in its way. She was so hungry... so _angry_...

The sobbing slowed and shifted into low raspy grunts. Swallowing his heart lodged in his throat, Francis began to move slowly back, step by step. Brushing against the first row of shelves, never taking his eyes off those in the dark, he felt for a metal canister he saw earlier. The walking stick zeroed in on Zoey as she continued to draw attention to herself with the angry animal. He had to think.

_Think damnit!_

Nick had done all the thinking he planned to do. There was no way to kill the thing just with his AK, so he'd just have to hope she found something else to focus on. Simple bullets were more like bee stings than whistling death to a witch.

"Shhh, Bill, please!" Zoey pleaded, trying to wish away the approaching creature.

"Let him go." Francis said slowly and deliberately.

"_No!_"

She shook her head furiously, trying harder to sooth the animal, but his efforts doubled as the witch edged into the light. It bore the tattered remains of a women's business skirt and jacket, a curious badge still pinned to the lapel with three blue letters.

_Umm. Zoey's not moving. Why is she not moving?_ Nick thought, flattening himself against the wall.

"Oh God." Zoey whispered, unable to remove her eyes from the foot long claws now scraping on the ground as the gaunt face eyed Zoey with a growing fury. Grunts transformed into low growls.

Wrapping her arms around the dog, Zoey suddenly yelled back, sending bolts of fear and disbelief through the men. "You can't have him, he's mine!"

"Zoey!" Francis pleaded, "Let him go!"

Creeping forward, the witch's face twisted into a an angry open-mouthed gape as she took air into her dead lungs, seemingly trying to understand why she hated those things before her. Looming over Zoey and Bill, she raised her terrifying claws, yet to be stained by blood.

Zoey raised her head to look directly into the witch's burning red eyes.

Her fear dried up, and an unbearable heat uncoiled in her stomach, shooting out through her limbs and finally circled through her head until it settled in a red fog over her eyes. The sound that roared out of her mouth was not human.

"MINE! HE'S MINE!" She glared up at the witch, feeling such anger, such defiance, such hate.

Something whizzed through the air and struck the witch in the head, instantly diverting her attention to the big one. Letting out a shriek, she tore after him, claws raised to strike. He scrambled back through the shelves, unsheathing the katana. Turning a tight corner he set his grip and stood to strike, praying to be the faster of the two.

Nick pounced off the wall, torn between figuring out what the hell was going on with Zoey and chasing after Francis and the bitch. He didn't get much more time to think about it when a loud alarm began blaring and a yellow light started flashing above a metal door in the wall.

Startled yet again, the witch turned back from Francis and focused her rage on the agonizingly loud alarm and blindly bright light. Francis moved as fast as his legs could carry him, thinking she was going back after Zoey. Just as he made it out of the shelving, the door beneath the flashing yellow light slid open. The witch cried in agony and leapt for the figure stepping out, face first into the business end of a military grade combat shotgun. With one lucky round her head was rendered into a pulpy mess and she fell limply to the ground.

While he was happy he didn't have to go one on one with death, Francis was beyond alarmed at the man stepping forward, lowering his weapon, then just as surprised when he looked over to Zoey.

"Is she ok?"

Startled back into action Francis ran over to Zoey and knelt before her, stealing a paranoid glance every few seconds back at the stranger who remained by the door scanning for more threats. He gently touched Zoey's tense shoulder, trying his best not to panic, but something monumentally fucked up had just happened with her and Nick had seen it. She looked like she was in a trance as she clutched the now confused and silent dog to her chest.

"Zoey?"

Her eyes snapped up to him and his breath caught in his throat. Maybe it was the flashing light, maybe it was the fear, but he swore he saw her eyes flicker red for half of a second as they burned into his own. After a few seconds she slowly came out of it until she just gradually just shifted her eyes around to focus on various things in the room.

"What... what just happened? What's that alarm? Who... who the hell is that?" She asked, releasing the dog. Her body felt very heavy, and the sounds around her seemed to be travelling through water.

"I don't know, I don't know, and I really don't know." He replied quickly, touching her chin to tip her eyes to look up into his again. He searched for the flicker, but got the stinkeye in return. "But you need to get your shit together before he thinks there's something wrong with you and gets an itchy trigger finger."

Zoey lazily fell against him and he hauled her unceremoniously to her feet.

"Is she alright?" Nick asked, finally coming out of his own confusion enough to speak.

"Perfectly fine." Francis lied. "Just got knocked around a bit."

Nick furrowed his brow for a second. That's not what he remembered.

Turning to the man clearly on edge at the door, Nick proceeded cautiously and approached, not aiming his weapon, but certainly not putting it down. "Who are you?" He asked, looking momentarily to his side as Francis and Zoey neared, the latter hanging on the former with a strained and confused look on her face.

The man tapped a few buttons on a pad next to the door and the alarm ceased, as well as the flashing light. He wore a three piece suit, a badge with three blue letters clipped to his lapel. He spoke formally as he greeted them.

"My name is Special Agent Derek Collins, FBI, and I spotted you on the security cameras. I came down when I saw Andrea here coming to greet you."

"Andrea?" Zoey began, looking at the gruesome remains of the witch, then back to the agent.

"She was my partner, until, well _that_ happened."

Francis frowned and exchanged a nervous look with Nick, neither had a great history with the FBI. Coughing, Nick tried to play it casual. "A fed? We're in the middle of nowhere, what the hell are you doing out here?" Well, _Nick_ casual.

"Two months ago a team of twenty agents including myself were dispatched out here on a Homeland Security tip that illegal eugenics and biological warfare experiments were being conducted at this facility. I am the last remaining survivor of that team because of some natural resistance to the leaked virus. However I carry it in a transmittable form."

Nick was baffled. He'd never crossed a fed that would just start spilling his guts because you asked. Zoey was thinking on a different wavelength. "Virus? What exactly are you saying?"

Collins frowned bitterly. "Welcome to ground zero for the 'Green Flu'. Or at least that's the buzzword the media has stapled to it. It not an Influenza strain. Not even close."

Francis stared wide eyed at the man. "No shit?"

"You gotta be kidding." Zoey edged tiredly, barely clinging to consciousness.

"I've been keeping up on the news as well as with the government via my world phone. Since I'm contaminated I've had no choice but to obey orders and wait here for instruction." Collins motioned for them to follow him.

"Why are you telling us so much?" Nick asked, staying close behind Collins. "You could have just waited in there and let us pass, why come out now?"

"At first I wasn't going to, orders and all, but I had a change of heart. When I checked the generators this morning I found out the power is going to fail soon. I had to warn you to get out, at the very least, before that happened."

"How thoughtful." Nick grumbled to himself, earning a warning glare from the fed.

"Anyway. My second thought was to take a risk in the off chance you'd be able to help me. I figured that if you've made it this long you're carriers like me, and probably know how to defend yourselves. That being said, I don't see the damn point in keeping anything classified anymore. If you've lived this long, you deserve to know how and why the infection started."

"Fair enough." Nick nodded and Collins continued, slinging his shotgun over his shoulder, not even the least bit worried about being held at gunpoint. Where would they go anyway? Sighing, Collins crossed his arms over his chest and recalled a story he'd told to more than a few people over the phone, mostly government brass.

"Here's the short version. There was a vial recovered from Newark Airport where the initial contamination began. I'm sure you remember the news reports about the airport getting shutdown for a possible terrorist attack. At that stage FEMA had tried to contain the initial infection, but it spread like wildfire from that airport to others in the US. Everyone who was exposed fell ill, quickly died, and their bodies spontaneously reanimated as I'm sure you're very familiar with." Collins paused, his face twisting in anger as he continued. "At that point I was called in with my team to this location because of the _name_ on the vial."

The trio looked back and forth, as if they were supposed to know the answer. Collins pulled a string of proximity cards up from his belt. Nick, Francis, and Zoey read the first card, simultaneously loosing color at the realization.

"CEDA!?" Francis spat.

Zoey's eyes widened. Though her head was hazy, one thought echoed like a gunshot._ Louis! And the laptop!_

"Yes, but do you know what it stands for?" Collins's asked.

"Civil Emergency and Defense Agency." Nick offered. "It's on all their stuff."

Collins shook his head angrily. "CEDA is actually a private company. The US government let them put that on the vans to help assuage panic. CEDA is the Combat Eugenics Development Association. An illegal operation that was going to be gutted after the virus was contained. CEDA explained to us that only they knew how to so we let them send out teams, because we had no effective attack of our own."

"Epic failure." Zoey said dryly, tired mind racing into a jumble as she tried to sort out the implications. Louis's laptop definitely had information about the infection, but what exactly?

"Pretty much. I watched it all go to hell from the media room. Here's the real kicker. The first quarantine team was brought back here after they were unable to complete their mission, and brought the uncontained infection with them. It killed everyone remaining here and spread. Only reason I survived was because I locked my partner and I in a vault for three days during the rampage. When the coast cleared we came out, but she'd caught it, and she wasn't immune. She went outside and just sat there for two days until she turned into that thing. I didn't have the heart to shoot her til she was trying to turn you into hamburger. Since then I have been trying to pull valuable information out of the system, but the firewalls are impossible. I'm an agent not a damn geek. "

"Wait." Zoey said, stepping forward away from the stability Francis was providing. "We have a geek. Come back with us, you should meet him. Well, everyone."

Collins expression lightened with excitement. "Everyone?"

"Four more." Francis confirmed, achingly curious to see what was behind that large steel door.

"And one's a computer guy?"

"He's alright if you like know-it-alls."

"That's a yes." Zoey grumbled, tossing an irritated look back at Francis.

"Well, shit, let's go." Collins pocketed his proximity card string and pulled out some keys. "My truck is out front if you want a ride."

"Take Bill. We have a bikes." Francis said motioning to the dog sniffing around the hall. Collins knelt and stuck out a limp hand to the dog. Bill approached cautiously until he sniffed the appendage and begun wagging his tail.

"Alright then, I'll meet you out front."

* * *

The remaining survivors were splayed out in the living room, practically comatose, aside from Louis, who sat out on the front porch with his M16 loaded. It was approaching a half an hour since Francis took off. He blamed himself for letting Zoey disappear earlier and didn't know if he could forgive himself if she had been hurt on his watch.

The faint rumbling of Francis's and Nick's bikes rolled into earshot then turned a corner down the road, the headlights flashing on the house. Louis jumped to his feet and ran down the lawn, physically relieved when he saw Zoey riding behind Francis. He paused in confusion when a large truck rolled around the same corner.

"Who's driving that thing?" The black truck with FBI insignia rolled to a gentle stop behind the bike. Bill jumped out the passenger side window and excitedly greeted Louis. "I know it wasn't the damn dog."

Francis and Zoey got off the bike as Collins exited the truck and walked around with hand extended to Louis.

"Special Agent Derek Collins, FBI."

"No kidding." Louis said, strapping on the M16 and returning the handshake.

"Are you the genius?" Collins asked blankly.

"Compared to Francis, we all are." Louis said suspiciously, eyeing the Fed.

"Keep that up and I _will_ beat you senseless with your fake leg." Francis warned with a growl. He was not in the mood to play nice.

"Ok. I don't want to tell the story five more times, so get everyone together and we will talk."

"That's on you, Louie." Francis mumbled and headed for the house, pulling Zoey along by the arm amidst her complaints. Stopping when she socked him in the shoulder he leveled a fierce warning glare at her and she quieted, allowing him to lead her up the stairs. Going into the room she'd claimed as her own he pushed her to bathroom, blocking the door as she stood defiantly before him, finding her voice again.

"I told you I'm fine!"

"Bullshit. You just get clean, then get your ass to bed. I don't know what crazy hell you were trying to pull out there with that witch, but you scared the hell out of me!"

"Scared you?" She snorted, crossing her arms.

"Yes, and if you argue again I'll clean you and throw your crazy ass in bed myself!"

"Fine!"

He growled tiredly, heading off to another restroom to clean himself. On the closing of the door Zoey trudged across the small bathroom floor sat on the closed toilet with a huff.

"Jerk." Who did he think he was anyway ordering her around like that? She didn't ask for his help. She certainly didn't ask to be treated like some brainless child with a death wish.

Her hand twitched, and she scratched it.

A few seconds later it twitched again and she scratched it harder, but this time the sensation did not abate. It spread across her hands and up her forearms, itching like nothing she'd ever felt. Soon, patches on her chest and back began to crawl as well, feeling like the very air torched her skin. Frowning, she glared down at her offending digits.

Red. Her hands were stained red, a deep disturbing red only ever seen when the hot blood spilled out of a fresh corpse. She'd seen that shade once coming out of her father's chest after she'd shot him. All thoughts of the warehouse, of Francis, Ellis, or Louis evaporated from her strained mind.

"Oh... oh no... Dad... _Dad_, I'm so sorry..."

Ripping off her coat she found the color seeping out where ever she looked. It was _everywhere_. Under her clothes, in her hair, down her legs. So much red. Scrambling over to the shower she turned on the water and jumped in before it could warm up, and once it did she turned it up as hot as she could stand it. She had to get it off.

A scrub brush from the previous occupant was hanging from a string on the tub nozzle. Without a second thought she ripped if off and squirted whatever soap she could find on it and began to scrub.

"Get off... _get off_..."

Still there.

She emptied the bottle onto the brush and went after her arms, then chest and stomach, and legs, but it was no good. It was everywhere, and it was getting darker.

She scrubbed harder.

* * *

Grumbling under his breath he closed the second restroom door behind himself and returned to the main level where Collins was wrapping up his story to the rest of the group. Entering the room, Francis gave Ellis a hard stare and he looked away, finding something absolutely fascinating to look at on the far wall.

"So there it is." Collins finished. "You're the first healthy people I've seen in over a month."

Louis sat at the dinner table quietly, but his eyes shifted in deep thought as he took in what Collins had said. "Theoretically, if the infection originated from that lab, you should be able to create an inoculation from the same data." However, Louis remained silent about the laptop he already had with CEDA and Aperture information until he knew more about the Fed.

"If you can get to it. I've been locked out. Even the access badges from the former staff don't do much."

"Well we have nothing but time." Rochelle said dryly.

"Actually. That's going to be a problem. The generators should be failing soon. The fuel tank is nearing empty. I'd say a day or two tops."

"Big deal, no power." Nick mumbled with a yawn.

Collins shifted uneasily. "We don't want to be here when containment is breached."

Coach leaned forward. "Why is that, Derek?"

"I can only show you. I don't know how to explain it."

"No one here is in any condition to go out." Rochelle interjected. "How about first thing tomorrow morning?"

"That's fine. I'll meet you all tomorrow morning where I found Francis, Nick and Zoey. Don't be late. Like I said, I don't know how much time is left on the generators."

"Peachy." Nick said flatly, rubbing his temples. Just what they needed, more complications.

Collins rose and excused himself. The group sat quietly until Francis, grin spreading quickly across his face, looked to Louis who was deep in thought.

"Way to go numbnuts."

"Huh?" Louis responded.

All eyes were on Francis. "You mapped a path away from all the vampires, and took us to the nest."

"Yeah, I guess I did. The best laid plans..."

After a quick conversation and biddings of good night, the survivors split off into different sections of the house to bed down. While they felt safe enough not to necessarily sleep in the same rooms, no one felt quite comfortable enough to leave their respective doors open, or without a barricade. Even in bedrooms, most would nest in the closet with at least one weapon, closing that one last barrier between them and the unknown.

Louis reclined in the closet in the laundry room on a pile of fresh smelling clothing from the home's previous occupants. Removing the prosthetic, he rubbed his leg for a few minutes until pressure subsided. While most of the discomfort from the artificial limb had waned away after a few weeks of use, it still would ache after a long day.

Leaning back into the closet beneath the hanging coats and other items, he rolled on his side and reached out to pet Bill. The dog was curled up beside him on a towel, nose tucked under his tail.

"This is a hell of a mess. What, do you think, old man? We just can't seem to avoid other people. I can see why you don't like them much. Too demanding." The animal sighed in its sleep. Louis smiled, pretending it was in response to his statement. "Part of me wants to evacuate everyone during the middle of the night. Just in case Collins isn't what he says to be, but after the colony I think I've lost that right. Francis and Zoey seem to be okay with him. I'll trust them since I don't trust myself or anyone else."

Louis frowned. "If you were here... you'd know exactly what to do."

* * *

She kept turning the crank, but the hot water refused to come out anymore.

"Jerk." She mumbled and sat on the floor of the stall, pulling her knees up to her chest as the relentless stream of water beat down on her skin.

There was no more soap. The scrub brush was treacherous and would not get the red off so she had thrown it in the toilet.

The water alone would have to do. Hunkering down, she rested her forehead on her knees and braced herself as the water temperature continued to drop until it was cool, then cold, then everything went numb.

Finally. She couldn't feel anything. No more crawling skin.

Even if it was still red.

* * *

There should have been more work to do.

Taking stock of the weapons laid out on a towel for cleaning, Francis was irritated that he was down to two pistols and a katana. You really didn't need to clean a sword, sharpen, yes, but he had no idea how you did that with a Japanese long blade. He wiped the blood off it from their earlier encounter having been more than a little pleased with the way the blade cut through infected like a hot knife through butter, but the fact remained that all he had in terms of fire power was two pistols.

_Damnit_.

His jammed shotgun still laid on the ground back in that horrid little shithole where they got the bikes. At least he was able to use it a projectile to get the hunter off of Ellis. Or maybe not. The thought of the kid made Francis's stomach twist in anger, and as he impulsively balled up his fists his knuckles cracked. He'd just let her wander off, which in itself was no big deal but he didn't tell anyone about it! If she'd been hurt or worse, he'd... he didn't know what he would have done.

Shaking his head to lose the thought string he picked up a piece of the dissembled pistol, sighed, and applied the polish rag.

Somewhere in the house the ambient noise of a water pipe stopped running, sending the living room to a complete and unnerving silence. Huh, he hadn't even noticed it, sprinklers must have been on. Shrugging, he set back to work on his weapons, noting wryly how easy it was to slip right back into the comforts of civilized living. If a person had been sneaking up on him he wouldn't have even noticed.

A few minutes passed in silence. He set down the pistol piece and rubbed his tense neck to try and relax and closed his eyes.

"Francis!" A chopped hiss cut through his ears.

_Sonofabitch! _

His heart launched into the back of his throat as he jumped from the table and tripped over his chair, landing with a loud thud on his back. Beyond furious at being startled he whipped his gaze up at the source of the voice, opening his mouth to yell, but he froze.

_That's just not good._

Eyes wide and unfocused, she looked down at him with a hollow and fixed gaze. Her skin had a bluish tinge while it twitched with tremors, and her hair hung around her face in stringy tangles. Water dripped off her as if she'd come straight out of the shower, but that was impossible since he'd left her in the bathroom nearly two hours earlier. If she'd stayed in that long the water would have gotten ice cold.

Then he remembered the hum of the pipes.

_Oh. _

_Shit._

She held her pale and quaking hands out to him, fear and confusion sweeping her features when she forced out her heavy words.

"I can't get the blood off."

As she spoke she lost the grip on her towel and it slid to the ground in a pile at her feet. Zoey didn't even seem to notice, focused intently on her deceitful hands.

He was so shocked, he couldn't even move his mouth to speak. Daydreams had often taken him to places where he'd wonder what her naked body looked like, but it couldn't prepare him for the thin, beaten, and shivering frame that stood before him, sickly pale and mottled with old bruises and cuts. Coming back to his senses, he bolted off the floor, swept a blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Zoey! For the love-! Son of- what the hell are you doing!?" He whispered fiercely, pulling her over to the couch, craning his head wildly around to make sure no one else had seen anything. She took his lead without complaint or resistance, feeling so far outside of her own skin that she observed the situation from above.

"I used all the soap... not strong enough... still red."

"What do you mean? There's no blood!"

Zoey sighed, leaning into him, forgetting his question instantly.

"Zoey?"

"Don't tell Bill. He'll be mad."

Francis's confusion shifted quickly to concern and he scowled. "Bill's dead."

"We're all dead, just don't know it yet."

In the back of his mind, a buzzer went off, a red flag raised, and a light started flashing. Francis could count on one hand the number of times he'd had felt that kind of fear before. The last time it had almost ended him, pawing at him like a demon, driving him to tear himself apart. It was only different this time because it was for her.

Her body shook, and she rambled on. "Just ghosts too stubborn to accept it."

Her skin was ice cold. Wrapping his arms around her he rubbed her arms and back forcefully trying to generate heat. Looking at her legs, he grimaced, her feet were white and her toenails were nearly blue.

"You're alive, I'm alive and Louie ain't killed himself yet either _somehow_."

"We think we're alive, but we hunger and kill, just like the monsters."

He knew it was the lack of sleep talking. Until that moment though, he had no idea just how severe her deprivation had become. In the heights of his own self destruction back at the mission he'd reached the same snapping point. Seeing things, hearing things, feeling things... that weren't there.

"First of all, I ain't no vampire. Second, you need to sleep-"

"Can't. We'll die again." She interrupted, but he continued anyway.

"Sleep's what keeps your screws locked down tight, and yours are comin' loose. So, yes, you are."

Francis pulled her into his lap and just wrapped himself around her, trying by sheer force of will to share his own heat. _Damn girl's gonna kill herself..._

"Irrelevant."

"When I tell you tomorrow morning you showed up naked and half dead at my table, you won't think it's so _irrelevant_. Damn lucky no one else saw you. Can't let any of those other idiots think you're a liability!"

She turned her weary face up to look at him, her wet hair hanging sloppily around her cheeks, framing her haunted and circled eyes. In the depths of her dilated pupils the barest hint of a spark of life encouraged him, a piece of the girl sending him a distress signal as she flirted with lucidity for a moment.

She started to thaw.

"Big baby, scared of a little skin."

"No! You're just- you- damnit!" He faltered defensively, trying to dig up more to say. It wasn't like he was trying to avoid sending her into a spiral, he just really had nothing to comeback with. Even half-cocked she was able to whirl him about.

As she leaned against him watching his wheels spin, it comforted her and helped her keep within herself just long enough to form a string of coherent thoughts. She absorbed the warmth of his hands and chest permeating through the blanket as he absently rubbed her arms and any other non-intrusive body part to calm her shivering. The living touch helped her cling to the fragile strings of awareness, soothing her restless mind. It was hard to remember what she'd said just minutes before, or even how the events of the stressful day had unfolded. Bits and pieces of memory swirled around in her head like someone had taken her consciousness and tossed it in a blender, but without the precious serotonin buildup, she couldn't commit them to a linear string.

Whatever the case, she couldn't pass up a ripe opportunity to make him uncomfortable while her pistons were currently firing in sync.

"Pale and beat up... too skinny... hard to enjoy that I bet." She mumbled.

Even in the shadows of soft light from the single lamp he'd pulled over to the kitchen table, she could see the angry flush in his skin as he reacted to her words. The mental gymnastics he had to be going through trying to think of how to respond without admitting things or offending her brought a smile to her face. The fact that he cared enough about either consequence to get flustered was endearing. Somewhere along the way he'd developed a filter for his... _verbal incontinence._ Shifting uncomfortably, he finally looked down to her.

"That's not fair. You surprised me is all."

"You're surprised? I don't even remember how I got down here." She smiled weakly, partially closing her eyes. All she could remember was the need to be warm and the desire to be clean, which she still felt intensely in the back of her mind. When she couldn't seem to get warm she knew subconsciously where to seek it, and as she leaned her head against his shoulder and his heat surrounded her she felt trickling relief.

"So how long you been losing sleep?" He asked darkly, "And why haven't you told me before?"

_How did he know?! _Bits of panic pierced her brain like spikes and she began to tremble again. Her reflex to keep it to herself threatened to drop the hazy shroud back around her mind and send her back into manic oblivion. Francis felt the tremor and her body stiffened, his own shoulders tensing up.

"Nuh-uh! Don't you check out on me, Zoey!" He said firmly, lifting her chin and raising her eyes to his. Her irises seemed to darken and her pupils dilated, appearing to focus on something well beyond him.

"It's not... your problem."

"_Wrong_ answer." He replied quickly, his mind racing for a way to keep her focused. He could only think of one thing, and it would probably get him a black eye. "What did I say the last time you tuned out on me?"

Zoey's eyes flickered, slowly trying to recall a memory, but before she'd even started she'd lost what she was doing.

"I said I'd slap you myself, and it _wouldn't_ be on the face."

Vague recognition splashed her features, but until he'd hauled her up and cracked her hard on the ass it hadn't hit home.

To be startled awake while _already_ awake was a strange feeling, but as the heat seared on her cheek and radiated up her spine, Zoey hadn't felt more alive in weeks. The sensation jolted her fully into the conscious world with a shot of adrenaline and she exploded forward, tripped over the coffee table and landed in a pile on the other side, gasping for air as her heart rate surged. Sputtering beneath the blanket she used the table to steady herself as she clawed her way back to her feet, eyes wide and searching until they settled on him. Memories of purple Gatorade burps, a burning tank, and an Animal Hospital shot before her eyes, followed by the sound of his irritated voice telling her to focus on the infected. Embarrassed fury sputtered out of her lips and she clutched the blanket tightly around her shoulders.

Francis shook his hand with a wince. He knew that even though she was small and underweight she was still a muscular woman, but _damn_, it felt like he'd just slapped a slab of granite. However he knew that since she was still fairly cold it probably stung like a belly flop in a pool and would radiate a good sting for a quite a while.

_Good. It'll hurt too much to be crazy for a while_.

"_You ASS_! What the _hell_ is _wrong_ with _you_!?" Her eyes seared him with the laser intensity he was accustomed to, letting him know if only for a while, she was in fact fully alert. He couldn't waste the opportunity. He strode around the couch and table and grabbed her arms.

"Me?! You've lost your damn mind!"

"I'm just tired, and it's _still_ none of your business!"

"Then why did you come to me?!"

"I- I don't know!" Bewildered at the fact there was probably a large hand print on her ass, she just stared at him as the interrogation began anew.

"How long have you not been sleeping?"

"I'm not going to tell you because it's not a big deal!" She countered stubbornly, clenching her jaw. He rolled his eyes and contemplated just walking away, but he'd made a promise.

"It's a big fucking deal! You wandered off by yourself and went one on one with a fucking witch today! You yelled at a crapload of vampires and called them _bad doctors_! Just five minutes ago you just showed up buck naked and called us _ghosts!_ I know I'm not as bright as you and Louie, but I ain't _stupid_!"

"It's not important, I'm taking care of it, alright?!"

Just how was it, exactly, could two people be thick as thieves one day and just fall apart the next? Swallowing his temper he ventured back into the icy depths of her eyes and saw his answer. They'd never fallen anywhere. She'd gotten lost.

Didn't mean he had to be nice about it.

"Fine. Tell me what helps and I'll do it. If you don't sleep you'll be dragging us all into some deep shit. Shit we _can't_ shovel."

"How do you know?" She rolled her eyes back at him and he bristled at the dismissive gesture.

"Cause I've _been there_!" He hissed darkly, purposely towering over her for emphasis. She resisted every urge she had to step back and heed the warning bells in her head. In her wired mind she saw his intensity as a challenge and she was going to rise to it. She had to show him she could be just as unaffected as him to earn his respect, to be strong... to be worthy.

Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

"You seem fine, so I will be too." She said flippantly, forcing a pained smile.

He hated having his patience tested.

The muscles in his neck twitched. He was tired and his limited verbal resources would not reach the part of her he needed to. Like other times in his life when words failed him, he would have to show what voices could not express. When his few words flowed out of his mouth, they were ice cold and quiet. She wanted to play the stubborn game?

So be it.

"Have you ever even looked at me- I mean just taken the time to really _look?_" He carefully started to unlatch and remove his gloves. "These tattoos ain't _art._ These gloves ain't a fashion statement." Tossing the fingerless leather husks to the ground, he then moved to slide his gray t-shirt up off his body. Purposely pulling his arms to rest at his sides, he bared his raw existence to her. Zoey stepped back in surprise, averting her eyes in embarrassment. She'd seen him without his shirt many times, but as he stood there he wasn't just bare, he'd just stripped the entirety of his being completely _naked _and demanded that she take it all in_._

Some people kept diaries or just bottled their dirty secrets in the backs of their minds. Francis was not a writer or a mental powerhouse. He was a physical guy, and his scars and stories were just that. They screamed at her from the abused canvas of his skin and she didn't have the courage to lift her head and look.

"Look at me, Zoey."

"I... can't..." Her eyes stung as moisture gathered on her lids.

Francis scowled, balling his fists.

"_Look at me!_" He snapped, trying his best to stay quiet enough to keep from waking the others.

She swallowed and turned to him again, but still couldn't bring her eyes up. As if feeling her struggle, he reached out a firm hand and gently forced her chin and eyes up, but she let them close, her last whimper of rebellion sliding down her cheeks in streams.

A loud sigh permeated the self inflicted darkness followed by his deep baritone. "You're a stubborn piece of shit, princess, but you can't just close your eyes when everything burns down around you. It'll kill ya whether or not you wanna look at it, or pretend it ain't happening. Truth is_, everyone breaks_."

"I'm not broken! I didn't break!" Her voice frantically cracked into breathless rasps as she trailed off, keeping her eyes doggedly clenched shut. In her mind she stood in an endless field of snow whipped about by wind, desolate and cold. She had to pick herself up, she had to keep everyone out, she had to-

"I did."

His voiced echoed over the plain, yanking her back out of her mental prison. Forcing her lids up, her eyes finally came into focus on his face highlighted by the lamp light on the left side, dark on the right. No smile dare cross his lips or scowl wrinkle his eyes, he was for the moment completely emotionally sober. He wore the same expression she'd witnessed on day one when they'd seen their first tank together, and then a hundred times more after that. It was the face Nick claimed was a monster just hours earlier, but he'd gotten it wrong. It wasn't the mask of a monster, but of sheer force of will. It was the face he put forward when the world crumbled but there was work to be done, the face he put forward when everyone else ran for cover, the face he put forward when he had to take a stand and be the sentinel of resistance between them and the darkness. It was the _survivor_.

She whimpered, her voice cowering in her throat as his stare shattered her walls and forced her own naked truth into the light. Just like that, the standoff had ended. Succumbing to the pressures of fatigue and mental strain she rattled out a sob and finally let the relief of surrender overcome her.

"Oh God, Francis! I'm so scared!"

His arms slipped around her and held her securely against his chest, and reflexively her arms clamped around his waist. After the sobs faded and the thread of his stitches scratched her face, she slowly pulled back and secured the blanket around her shoulders again and let out a heavy sigh.

It was time to look... to _see_.

Freeing one hand she gently hovered it over his skin, feeling the heat radiate off. Gently she laid her palm on his right side and traced the pads of her fingers over the immediate area covered by a mess of ink, absorbing the texture with a shiver. The fact was, she'd unconsciously avoided the sight and subject of his physical condition on purpose, even while stitching his chest and shoulder. It had nothing to do with being shy or any other girlish sensibility. Just touching his arms, she had always noticed but willingly forgotten the nearly alien texture of his skin.

Coming up on a fairly large ridge of scar tissue she grimaced, and shuddered. She mumbled incoherently, tracing the ancient gash then others as she made her way around. The knotted rises and cratered pits of old scar tissue covered his torso like spider webs in an old attic. Obvious knife wounds, bullet holes, ancient scrapes, burns, even bites stretched from the waistband of his pants up to his hairline and in some places dipped into it. He'd tried to cover them and hide his shame with black ink. Somewhere along the way they'd become too many in number and he'd just... g_iven up. _

That was _his_ breaking point, when he could no longer keep up with masking his pains behind a veil of ink. At that moment he was right there before her, willing show her his broken pieces so she wouldn't deny or be so afraid of her own. Somewhere along the way he'd crawled out damaged on the other side of his abyss and saw her descending into her own. For a while he'd been fumbling clumsily as he tried to keep her upright, tried to keep her patched together while she stubbornly and blindly insisted on diving in.

She mumbled again, a shaky smile cracking her face. Her touch changed from exploratory to tender as her fingers pressed firmly, her thumb lovingly brushing a scar on his oblique.

"Francis," Glassy eyes peered up at him with awe and understanding. "I _see_ _you_."

His chest still rose and fell erratically and his fists clenched and unclenched several times over at his sides while he processed what she said, trying to figure out why it nearly knocked him over. His courage to keep moving forward into such personal territory was slowly slipping away. He felt the urge to run, but if he had to staple his ass to the couch he would stay right there.

She removed her hand from where it rested on his stomach and tentatively reached out to grasp one of his bare hands, handling it as if it were a precious piece of china. From the tips of his fingers to his wrist, his skin was a star map of angry knotted tissue, most heavily concentrated sections over the clearly chipped bones of his knuckles. Securing the blanket under her arms, she freed her other hand and uncurled his fingers until they were... almost straight. Technically they could fully extend, but looked more like crooked sticks than actual fingers, but she didn't care. Bringing the large fist to her lips, she gently kissed his knuckles, sending his head into a wild spin.

He'd expected her to run. He'd expected her to yell. He'd expected her to be disgusted.

She never did anything he expected.

"How did this happen?" She asked softly, her small but strong fingers continuing to work his own while he accessed some memories he'd wished time had faded from his head, but there was no running from the experiences that made him who he was.

"Shitload of bad decisions and even more bad luck." He mumbled regretfully, stifling a bitter laugh. He considered stopping there, but she needed to hear it. "Losing sleep is just the beginning when you're forced to see just how damn ugly the world is. At first... at first you think you can handle it cause you got enough dumb luck to stay alive. Then you get numb and feel _invincible_. Nothing hurts- _nothin_. Nights come and go and then your dreams start to turn on you, replaying all those fights and beatings... _faces_... all those things you can't _unsee_."

Gently releasing his hand she took him in with glazed eyes, the description of her own hell having fallen out of his mouth. "I..."

"When you stop sleeping you start to see, hear, and feel things that ain't there. Your head just starts to fall apart." He paused and stepped back a bit, needing to put some distance between them and ease his immense discomfort. Being so exposed was hard and he needed to retreat. "That's why you gotta sleep. Don't care where, but you gotta do it now."

"Stay." She snatched his wrist before he could get farther away and clamped onto it as hard as she could, face deadly serious. "Whenever I close my eyes... rotting faces..." She paused and swallowed hard. "I only sleep when you're there."

"Huh." He grunted in response, watching as she closed the distance again and earnestly stared up at him. She swallowed even though her mouth was dry.

"I think it's why I came to you."

"Your brain is baked. You don't know why you came out."

For once her stubbornness was aimed in the right direction, as recognition lit up her eyes. She actually remembered something, talking to Louis. Her voice took on a frantic air and she started to babble.

"I do now. I'm sorry about everything. I know now you were just trying to help. I know you put yourself out there and I burned you. Truth is, I can't do this without your help. I'm asking you, I'm begging you, please don't leave me alone. I know you really don't want anything to do with me anymore, and it's my fault..." She trailed off, not really knowing what to say after that. Releasing his wrist, she backed up and sat on the couch relieved with her confession. Sighing, she looked down at the blanket and quietly admitted aloud, "I need you."

There was a long moment of silence as he just stood there facing away. Shoulders tensing, he picked up his shirt off the floor and put it back on, covering the blanket of scars. Her stomach sunk, waiting for him to just walk out, like he had up on the roof earlier. Turning back to her he crossed his arms and glared her down, as if what he was about to reinforce the fact that the sky was blue to a petulant child.

"You don't have to ask. When you want something from me, _just take it._"

His frustration cut the thick air, washing over her like a cool wave. Dropping on the couch beside her, he pulled her into his side. How were you supposed to tell someone you wanted everything to do with them? That your entire life you'd not lived damn day until you met them? He thought about to saying something cheesy to reinforce the issue, but once again, he and words were not on good terms.

"Just take..." She whispered, rolling the words in her mouth and the concept in her mind. She paid no attention as the blanket slid off her leg, quickly revealing skin all the way up to her bare hip. Without a thought he reached over her to pull it securely back over her pale skin. Before he could retract, she clamped onto his arm, holding him in place. He could see her eyes were muddy with tired thought as she continued to stare up at him.

"What are you doing, Zo?"

"After everything I've said and done, you stick around. Why?"

He took a moment, a hint of a genuine and soft smile surfacing on his features. She hadn't seen one in days. The answer to this one was startlingly simple, so much so that he was confident enough to answer.

"I want to."

Exhaustion be damned. Eyes widening, she shot her free hand up around his neck and used the leverage to pull herself the rest of the way to his face, capturing his mouth with her own. At first he jolted in surprise then settled into the kiss, resting his hand on the hip that found its way free again. Brushing his thumb over the soft skin, an electric bolt circled her body and her lips stretched into a smile.

A warning went off in his head and he quickly ended the exchange, sitting forward on the edge of the couch, resting his elbows on his knees.

"The hell, Zoey? You can't be screwing around like that if you want me to help you sleep, because that leads to, uh, _not sleep_! You're sleep crazy."

"I'm actually very awake."

"Bull-" Twisting on his seat he swallowed hard at the sight. Eyes focused with startling intensity on him, she slowly sat up, the blanket falling free from freshly warm and much healthier looking skin. She didn't seem to care. "Shit! Darlin, you don't know what you're doin!" He warned, shifting down the couch a bit, searching for a very interesting spot on the wall to consider while an ocean of urges brimmed just beneath the surface. With the girl that had occupied his evening thoughts for months coming after him, control was moments from slipping.

"I'm taking." She explained coolly. The second his warm fingers clutched at her hip, clarity had been the first thing to ring in her mind: she _wanted_.

"You've seen me now. You don't want this clusterfuck of a mess."

Slipping her fingers under the edge of his shirt she pulled it up fast enough to where he didn't have a choice but to lift his arms.

"What the hell-" He growled until her lips settled on the scarred tissue of the gunshot wound she'd inflicted on the back of his shoulder, and her arms wrapped around the front of his shoulders. Time stopped and he sat perfectly still as if she'd found his surrender button. Eyes wide with shock he forced out a strangled whisper. "Why?"

_Because you're safe. _

_Because you're everything I'm not. _

_Because you never give up on me._

She pulled on his shoulders and he obediently leaned back into the couch, watching languidly as she straddled his lap and leaned over to kiss a string of scars going up his neck from his collarbones. Finding more on his face she pressed her lips to a discoloration on his cheek then focused on the light mark stretching down the left side of his bottom lip. Feeling it with the tip of her index finger a gentle sigh escaped her lips and she focused on the deep mahogany of his eyes.

_Because you're always there. _

_Because you're ok with my crazy._

_Because you're flawed. _

_Because you're just as damaged as I am._

_Because you see me too._

Resting her forehead against his, she let out a soft breath and smiled.

"Because."

Francis's voice stuck in his throat. This strange woman saw who and what he was and didn't just tolerate it, but accepted it, shit, _wanted_ it. She was crazy. Never in his life had he known the feeling. It was... incredible. As her lips met his, he pulled her flush against him, one hand tangling in her hair while the other tried to absorb the feel of her expanse of skin all at once.

Months of tension washed away in a frantic scramble to connect. Limbs tangled, clothing shed, skin met skin, hearts raced, private laughter echoed, and for a short time no one was in pieces.

Collapsing on his chest she smiled to herself, clinging to his perpetual warmth under the blanket as if her life depended on it. Listening to the thunder of his heartbeat as it slowed, she slid her hand around the unique topography of his stomach watching it rise and fall with each breath. His hand rested on her waist, absently stroking the length of her side in a soothing circular motion. In mere seconds her world faded to black and she fell hard but peacefully into a sleep so deep she was nearly comatose. Nothing the next day could possibly bring would spoil her victory over herself or ruin the serenity she'd found.

Or so she thought.


	14. Blackout

Note: Sorry for the delay. Between family visits and extra projects tossed on my plate at work, it's been a hell of a month. No time to do laundry let alone write. Chapter had to be split in half again. It would have been another 22k, and I just don't like doing that. Pieces made me wince uploading it. Story is now 180k in my word doc, so yes, there's still a bit to go. I know it's not my usual upload day, but I was itching to get something up.

* * *

**Chapter 13: Blackout**

Tossing an irritated glace at the clock on the wall as the others slowly rose from their accommodations, Nick growled. He'd been cursed with the pain in the ass of being a morning person so he spread the joy of his misery as often as he was able. Plus he really hated being late, it just wasn't professional.

"Let's go already!" He bellowed up the stairwell with a crotchety snarl. All but two made it as far as the kitchen for food and coffee in the next ten minutes, but there wasn't so much as a creak of the floorboards of two stragglers. Glancing around the room he noted the dissembled pistols that still laid out on the table beside the katana and his frown deepened. Now they'd have to wait for those to be put together as well.

"_Asshats_." He breathed, marching up the stairs.

Wrenching himself down the hall with an occasional angry spasm to the only closed door, he dropped curses in English and Italian, and kicked the door open with a righteously indignant pointing finger. "What the hell is taking-"

Zoey startled so severely out of her sleep by the boom of the door that the sheet tangled in her legs and she fell right over the side of the bed, letting out a yelp when she hit ground. "You son of a bitch!" She cried from the floor, shaking as her over-stimulated nervous system came to grips with the horrible alarm clock. Clawing her way up to her knees, she sprung to her feet, too furious to care that she was still completely nude. "_Nick_!", she screeched, "I am going to kill you with _fire_!"

Nick just stood there, mouth gaping and arm frozen as he pointed at her. Red with embarrassment and shock at the hefty eyeful he was getting of the young woman, he tried to form some sort of response but it died as short gurgles in his throat. It had been a long time since he'd even seen a woman partly dressed, so he just stood there in a paralyzed conflict between the parts of him that enjoyed it with those that warned him pain was imminent with a blinking red siren.

"GET OUT!" She cried.

A tap on his shoulder made him turn around slowly, eyes impossibly wide as he laid sight on his very-_very_ angry former mercenary, arms twitching as they crossed threateningly over his gray shirted chest.

Nick should have listened to the siren.

"She _needed_ more sleep." He rumbled and with freak speed, buried a fist in Nick's face. Folding like a cheap suit, Nick crumpled to the floor.

"My hair!" He sputtered, grasping for the mussed locks as Francis reached down and pulled him by the back of the collar out of the room. Looking over his shoulder at her, Francis grinned when he heard the edges of her snicker.

Shutting the door, he stood over Nick with practiced annoyance. "Seriously?"

Nick gently fingered the now matching shiners on his face as he leaned against the wall. "Damnit, I thought we were friends now. I helped you save her life yesterday! And for fuck's sake stop punching me!"

"Don't matter." Francis said cheekily, hauling Nick to his feet. "You could be my brother and I'd still knock you out for sneaking a peek at her- hell, you could be the damn president."

"Was not intentional, but," Nick paused, a sly smile crossing his aching face as a bell dinged in his head. _Francis knew she was naked._ "Glad you took my advice and patched things up. Gotta say though, now that I know why, it tickles my cold black heart to see Ellis moping around like a kicked puppy."

"The hell..." Francis started in surprise. "How did-"

Nick casually smoothed out his shirt, adjusted his hair, and patted Francis on the shoulder. "Don't fry your circuits trying to figure it out." He walked back down the hall whistling some old song. At the top of the stairs he checked his watch then glared back down at Francis, "Ten minutes. You know how much I hate being late.", and disappeared down the stairs.

"Hey." Francis called. Nick's head popped once more.

"What?"

"Put my pistols back together, will ya?"

"Wait, what the hell are you- never mind. I don't care. Just hurry up." Rolling his eyes Nick grunted in agreement and slipped out of sight again.

Francis shook his head in surprise then knocked quietly and opened the door. Zoey stood before the vanity mirror, trying to brush the knots out of her hair, already dressed. She'd become quite adept at dressing in a rush.

"Zo."

"Yeah?" She winced at a particularly nasty tangle. None of the conditioner managed to stay in her hair after sitting under the water half the night.

"Go back to sleep."

"Negative."

"Don't you think-"

"Hell no. I want to know what's behind that big metal door. Five hours was enough sleep for starters." She paused, catching his fleeting concern out of the side of her eye. Pulling her hair back into a tie she turned to face him, feeling a bit self conscious. "Screws are locked down tight today, I promise."

He crossed his arms and eyed her suspiciously. "Havin' an issue believing that."

Zoey furrowed her brow and crossed her own arms to hide behind them, her gaze seemingly fixed somewhere beyond him. "At the very least, I'm ok for now. Hiding isn't going to solve anything."

Francis considered her carefully. She hadn't lied to him, which at the very least was a step in the right direction. Satisfied he nodded and motioned to the door.

"Fine, but if you start making like the mayor of crazytown I'm bringing you back."

The threat was hollow and she knew it right off. She smiled tiredly and made her way over to him. "Don't worry, I save it all just for you."

"Ain't I special."

"Oh, and Francis?"

He paused, a shot of anxiety putting him on edge when she scrunched up her nose at him.

"Huh?"

"I'd sure like to know why I was naked when I woke up."

The blood drained out of his face in a split second, just as she'd hoped. It took all she had not to laugh and blow her cover. He squirmed and bristled, trying to come up with a diplomatic way to explain the course of the night. It was certain he was convinced she'd not remembered, and the empty stare on her face probably reinforced his fear. When she could hold it back no longer, she lightly punched the non-injured side of his chest and burst.

"You're so easy to screw with!" She laughed. His shoulders immediately unbunched and he sighed in relief. Pausing for a second she rested her hands on his chest, the bits her exhausted mind managed to store from the previous night coming back in short staccato waves. Peering up with a playful glint in her eye, her tone deepened for a second. "Fun too, from what I remember."

"You're evil." He barked weakly, pointing a finger at her.

"I promise to only use my powers for good." She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek, sending him into a flurry of mumbled curses as he searched desperately for his composure. Amused, she buckled her utility belt and picked up her rifle.

"Pure evil." He mumbled, stalking after her as she went out the door and down the hall. Before she could descend the stairs he firmly gripped her arm. "Seriously though, tell me if you start losin it... and be careful."

Reaching up she clasped his still bare hand, forcing a smile. "Why so serious? It's just a field trip."

"Zoey! We've had shitstorms just crossing streets!"

"I know, I know." She sighed, taking him seriously for the second. "But we aren't talking about me anymore, are we?" When it came down to it, losing her marbles was the least of their worries. Perhaps she was being heavily optimistic, perhaps she didn't even want to consider the horrors that may lay beyond that steel door. What she did know for certain was that she wanted to hold onto the afterglow of her new memories as long as she could. That meant filtering out the worst possible outcomes the day could have, if only for a short while.

"Why the hell do we give two shits about what's behind that door?"

"You're not curious?"

"It's killing me, but you're the one who made me promise to stop sticking my head in places it don't belong."

Zoey snorted. "And you listened?"

"You're hilarious." He deadpanned. Zoey reached up and rested her hand on his collar.

"Francis. If it's bad, we'll leave. We have time left on the generator, which is keeping whatever it is contained. I really think Louis needs a chance to look around and see what he can do."

"For his stupid puzzles?"

"Yes."

Francis frowned heavily, fending off a foreboding darkness creeping in the edges of his mind. It seemed it'd been there nonstop since the infection began, only growing imperceptible in its commonality at times. It was the first time in months it'd been powerful enough to get his attention and force a shiver of anticipation of threat through his body.

"Trust me on this." She said softly, with the sweetly-tired smile he'd already risked his life for on several occasions. Why not add another? "And I'll keep trusting you. When you say go, we will."

Her words made his stomach ache instead of soothing the prickling on his neck, but he agreed. "Fine."

Squeezing his hand, she turned to walk down the stairs and casually started conversing with the others before she even touched the bottom step. He was hit with a pang of nervous grief and he gripped the banister when he fell off balance with a tinge of nausea.

_Take her, run, and never look back._ His base instincts screamed at him, but he didn't have time- or the desire- to dwell on it.

"_Chewbacca_, get your giant ass down here!" Nick's voice bellowed pulling him out of his thoughts. Swallowing his uncertainty he descended, fighting off the voice in his head.

_Run, you jackass, before you get sucked into the pits of hell._

* * *

Francis forced the kickstand down with his boot. The minor crash he'd sent the bike into the previous night had bent it just a little bit, but it was still usable. With a screech it latched into place and took the weight of the bike as one then two passengers dismounted.

Out of habit he took stock of his weapons, once again irritated with the fact that all he had was a sword and couple pistols. He missed the comforting weight of his shotgun as he stood before the looming warehouse, feeling it was more intimidating in the daylight than it had been in under the cover of night. It looked like an old abandoned mine building he and his brother had thrown rocks at as young children, told by kids at their school it was haunted by some olden-days miner searching for his take.

"Feel naked?"

"You don't get to say that word anymore!" Francis hissed and whipped his head over at the source, scowling something fierce. The discomfort of his activated fight-or-flight instinct mixed poorly with the newly broken ground he'd yet to work out with the young woman. Of course, she took it as an opportunity to ruffle his feathers.

"Nude? How about stripped?" She teased, delighting in his obtuse discomfort. "Bare?"

"Were you always this mouthy?!"

She grinned. He walked right into it. Biting her lip she leaned forward into his personal space. "You didn't have a problem with it last-"

"Shhhh! Holy shit, shut up!" He begged, covering her mouth. Coach raised an eyebrow a them as he shuffled by, shaking his head with a snort. Zoey tore his hand away from her mouth, lashing him with a fierce glower. A second passed between them before her eyes softened and she smiled with a tick of concern.

"I'm just messing with you. You gotta relax before you stroke out."

He looked away and crossed his arms, snorting in defiance. He wasn't just on edge, he was being cut up by the edge, and he was liable to go off at the smallest provocation. Zoey hadn't seen him that wound up since the early days. Grasping his T-shirt, she tugged on it until he looked down at her and finally sighed in surrender at the look of hollow fear she'd been ripe with the night before.

"Nothing bad is going to happen. We're just looking around, remember? _Field trip_."

"I hate field trips." He growled lightly and was rewarded with a thankful smile.

"No one hates field trips." Zoey shook her head and started walking after the group. She acknowledged his apprehension internally but put it on the back burner and ran to catch up with Rochelle, not wanting to indulge her own anxiety she was barely managing to keep at bay.

Running a hand through his hair Francis scoped the surroundings. Zoey tagging along with the unquestionably trustworthy Rochelle meant he wouldn't have to watch her like a hawk, which would give him the extra attention he needed to figure out what was bothering him, and get the anxiety monkey off his back. If he could kill or otherwise maim the threat before it attacked, he'd be able to relax for sure.

"Get your damn head on straight." Nick said coolly, voice laced with flakes of menace as he came to a stop at Francis's side, rolling up his sleeves.

"Don't remember asking for tips."

"Don't remember giving a damn. We don't know what the fed has behind that door. Could be an ambush, could be a circus."

"You think!?"

"Don't let her make you stupid."

Francis faltered, balling his hands into fists at the accusation. "Wasn't a problem before."

Nick glared over at him seriously. "This isn't _before_, is it?"

Francis shifted uncomfortably. "I'm aware."

"Good." Nick started off towards the door where the others were gathering. Francis called after him but didn't move.

"Something's not right 'bout this place, and I ain't talking about the vampires. Felt it last night too."

The Italian paused, grimacing back over his shoulder, allowing a small wave of relief. Francis's radar was still functioning somewhat. "Think we should we run?"

"Let's go you two, door is open!" Louis yelled from in the warehouse, his voice echoing lightly in the steel structure.

Francis looked around once more, remembering his agreement with Zoey. "Not yet."

"Well, when you do, don't keep it to yourself."

* * *

Once upon a time they were people.

Once upon a time they had hopes, dreams, loved ones, and never imagined in any way that the end of their lives would bring such terror and pain in cramped liquid filled tubes. They were equally alive and dead, aware and unaware of the world around them.

Coach imagined that they were in pain based solely on the snarled expressions etched into every single face floating lifelessly in what could only be described as giant green glowing test tubes. Hundreds of them were packed tight in the football field sized room. The oxygenated bubbles surged up from the bottom of every container moving clothing, hair, extraneous appendages, and whatever new body features resulted from genetic tampering.

Coach moved to another tube. An older man in a lab coat hovered in the green liquid, body contorted in a strange position as razor sharp bone spikes protruded from his arms and chest. At the bottom of the container a small pile of the bones moved around under the force of the air. Judging on the size and shape of the pieces, they were probably projectiles that had fallen off during the slumber of the creature.

Standing upright Coach scanned the entirety of the room. In the middle were a couple 20 foot tall tubes about ten feet around. The contents of those two, coupled with the horrifying army surrounding them elicited an instinctual fear from the collective whole of the group. Each individual gripped their weapon tighter as they filtered through what could only be described as a carnival freakshow.

"What are we looking at?" Coach asked quietly.

Collins cleared his throat and begun to speak. He'd been around the hall of horrors for months now and it still made his skin crawl.

"Everything here is in suspended animation, but very much alive. The way it was explained to me was that these people are test subjects and the tubes keep them in a sort of stasis, but when the generators fail-" He choked the end of the sentence, remembering just how frightened the creatures made him.

"Good morning sunshine." Ellis said darkly, finishing Collins's thought as he walked up to a regular sized green tube and cringed at what appeared to be a spitter. It's long neck and mouth hung grotesquely open, eyes fixated forward in fury.

"Unreal... an army of special infected." Zoey said with a dry mouth. Unsettled, she peered around the room in search of Francis. Leaning against the wall his eyes flicked wearily across the glowing cylinders, his face a stone mask. Swallowing, she made a slow bee-line towards him through the containers, growing more apprehensive with each deformed face she passed.

"And those," Louis began walking up to the giant tubes, "forgive my theories- are what tanks were designed to be. It looks like the tanks we've been seeing are just partially formed. They needed a lab to finish the transformation completely."

"_Designed_?" Nick barked. "Are you saying all this shit was _intentional_?"

"Yes." Louis replied soberly, mind racing through the bits and pieces of data he could comprehend from the laptop. Nick walked hastily between the tubes, gesturing angrily.

"I've never seen most of these kinds of infected! Why the hell would someone _want_ to make these things?"

Collins replied sourly. "The market for biological weapons in this world is larger than you'd think. The current state of our country shows just how successful this would have been if it hadn't leaked."

Coach walked up to another tube that held a child sized infected, it looked perfectly normal aside from the foot long razor sharp claws and snow white skin and hair. It was a witch, but that was not what caught his attention. With a heavy sigh he laid his hand on the glass and focused on the soft face of a little girl in her simple school dress. "And some fools just want to play God."

"Where did these people come from? They look like they jumped straight out of 1982." Rochelle interrupted. Some wore orange jumpsuits, some wore very dated civilian fashions, and some wore lab coats, or what remained of them. The few children present had era jumpers and slacks.

Collins threw up his hands in frustration. "Your guess is as good as mine. There aren't any records on any of them. None of them match any active missing person's reports."

"Could they have been pulling them out of the town?" Rochelle guessed, kneeling over to get a better look at a child that had a inkling of a smoker's tongue protruding from its mouth. Gently she laid her fingers on the glass, heart aching intensely for the child.

"According to our numbers, no. All of the residents were safely evacuated."

"Well, they didn't just sprout out of the ground!" Rochelle replied with a snort.

"Normal zombies come out of the ground..." Zoey chuckled awkwardly, drawing weary looks from her companions. Chastised, she wiped the smile off her face and stared at the ground, moving her foot over some imaginary dirt. "Screw you guys. I'm funny."

Beside her an elbow gently poked her ribs. Looking up she saw the traces of a fading laugh on Francis's face, broken free for a second from the intense scowl he'd been wielding. Chuckling under her breath she crossed her arms with a satisfied smirk, and relaxed into the comfort of just lingering in his shadow.

Shaking his head at Zoey's comment, Louis ran a hand over his freshly smooth head then turned back to Collins. The wheels spun behind his eyes, as puzzle pieces began to fall into place. It was starting to become more clear but he needed to know more. "Take me to the lab."

"Ok." Collins nodded, happy to lead the way to the exit.

Ellis was the last out, and before the door shut behind him he looked back once more.

"All y'all just stay sleeping, you hear me?"

* * *

When the door to the lab slid open, the seven travelers were greeted with an all too familiar site: blood smeared walls under a couple flickering lights in the trashed lab that was once maintained as a sterile environment. They were unfazed.

"Give me an access badge." Louis asked as he powered up a workstation. Monitors all around the lab flickered to life in response. The group walked around cautiously, some pulling out their pistols as they investigated still corpses.

Collins gladly handed him the entire chain of cards he'd collected off bodies. "Take'm all. Useless to me."

Louis thumbed through the cards quickly, instantly matching the type of system the same one on Howard's laptop, which sat in a bag beside him on the floor. The first card he reached with the tiny symbol that indicated admin rights he popped in the computer, pulled up a DOS box, and typed furiously away. Monitors all around the lab started scrolling various forms of script.

Collins eyes widened in surprise. Should it have been that easy? "So uh, you got some experience in this, huh?"

"Just enough to be _extremely dangerous_. Oh, and I need laptop." Louis said shortly to Collins, who practically spun in place as he tore through the room looking for a book sized machine.

Rochelle perked up and ran out of the lab and dug through a few different offices with little success. The last room she came to was locked.

"Ellis, sweetie. Destroy this door please." She called with a honeyed voice. Ellis scrambled out and with one solid kick the door flew off its hinges. "Thank you, dear."

"Sure thing, Ro."

Rochelle dug behind the desk and found a briefcase locked shut. "Ellis?" She asked again sweetly. He walked over raised the butt of his rifle and smashed the hinges on the case then ripped it open. The shiny cover of the computer reflected in the fluorescent light above. Rochelle pulled out the machine and power cord and flashed Ellis a bright smile. "Thank you again, sweetie."

"Ma'am."

Running back to the lab she dropped the machine on the desk beside Louis and watched him expectantly. He paused and looked up at her with awe. "Resourceful." Rochelle suppressed a prideful grin.

"I figured they wouldn't have any on-network laptops available in a top secret joint like this. There had to be a personal one in one of the offices."

"And bright." Louis said while Collins still tore through the lab in frustration. "Got it, Collins." He called, then turned back to Rochelle. "You're absolutely right. They're not secure because people like _me_, can do things like _this_."

Louis unplugged the LAN cable from the work station and hooked it up to the back of the laptop. Pulling up another DOS box he executed a network program with a few keystrokes then leaned back and heaved a sigh in the chair. Lines of code furiously filled up and took over the screen of the laptop.

"What did you do?" Rochelle asked in fascination.

"Clone." He said simply. "All the vital high security information off the servers is being transferred to this laptop and rewriting the operating system to read the encryptions and translate program specific data."

"Is there enough room?"

"Surprisingly, yes. Couple hundred gigs of pure data with limited images and no video will fit nicely on this computer."

"How long will it take?" Collins asked, walking up again.

"Crap network like this? A few hours." Louis replied, spinning the chair around. Everyone watched him quietly in amazement. He was fairly uncomfortable with the attention, just like when he was still in school.

"So what exactly is the plan here?" Coach asked. Collins nodded and addressed the group, gesturing to Louis.

"Get what he needs off the computer and get the hell out of here, and give the information to the CDC." He said simply.

"So is there something a bit more useful we can do than just sit around and stare at Louie?" Ellis asked.

"How about you guys go find out exactly how long we have before those generators go out?" Louis suggested, turning back to the screen, suddenly very curious about a few things that would not be downloaded into the laptop.

"Good idea." Collins agreed, turning back to the rest of the crew.

"I'll go." Coach volunteered. "This lab gives me the damn creeps." Ellis and Nick agreed and followed.

"Be ready to shoot. There might still be some infected down there. I haven't cleared anything beyond the second level." Collins advised.

"Well shit, then I'm going too." Francis said, jumping off the counter he'd perched up on.

Zoey fidgeted, raising her hand and opening her mouth to protest but stayed silent. Her gesture however had not gone unnoticed. Francis halted as the group walked out the door and raised his eyebrows back at her. Just as he was about to say he changed his mind, she waved him off with a smile.

Louis clipped away through the network, aiming for personnel files. Curious, Collins watched over shoulder as a man's face and information filled the screen. Alarmed he stepped back from Louis and laid a hand on his pistol.

"Holy shit, Zoey!" Louis gasped. "Howard worked here!"

"You know that man?" Collins asked coldly, drawing Rochelle and Zoey's undivided attention. Zoey stood and gripped her rifle, Rochelle pulled out a pistol in complete silence, but they waited to see what the fed would do as Louis typed away and read, oblivious to the threat behind him.

"Unfortunately. Do you?" Louis asked casually, wrapped up in his reading.

"That's the man responsible for crippling the network and leaking the virus at Newark. Agents have been scouring the country looking for him, but he ghosted."

"What if I told you I had the laptop containing the information he stole?"

Collins unconsciously licked his lips and removed his hand from his weapon, leaning forward on the counter to read the screen with Louis.

"I'd tell you that you possessed the only information in existence than can possibly stop the infection. CEDA was sending out vans to collect carriers to research them and maybe try and form some sort of basic inoculation from their DNA after that very information was stolen."

"Explains that van heading to Atlanta, and the Army FOB." Zoey cut in, her voice cold as she remembered back before the bridge, one of her last memories of Bill surfacing. Worst of all, it was of them fighting. "But if CEDA was doing it, why was the military rounding us up and having us spit in cups?"

"Once CEDA failed the government had to try something- anything."

"Yeah, well, they sucked at that too." Zoey grumbled, crossing her arms and looked away. Louis paused and watched her momentarily with a pained sigh. "All they told us was that the resistance to virus was passed down paternal lines."

The air hung heavily in the room. Out of view of the others Rochelle's face cracked in surprise, but she caught herself and held firm. That was news to her. News she didn't want to hear.

"Not a great experience for us, Derek." Louis said quietly.

"Ok then, tell me how you got the laptop."

Zoey cut in again icily. "From _him_." She winced and closed her eyes trying to think of absolutely anything else.

Louis swallowed hard, turning back to the computer. "Also not something we want to talk about, just know that we have it."

"But you know where he is?" Collins's tone was nearly manic.

"Yes." Zoey said coldly. "Colony of survivors north of Ashville, North Carolina. Francis may or may not have killed him."

Collins whipped out a paper pad and wrote the information down. Peering over Louis's shoulder, he frowned. "If you have the laptop, why are we bothering pulling so much off the network? We could just get the hell out of here."

Louis nodded and scrolled through the file as he thought for a second. "Good, a question I actually want to answer. At the colony Howard was collecting as many medical and academic professionals as he could. Now I know why. The information he stole was very raw, too raw for any one person or specialist to decipher. To go through what I found on the laptop you would need biochemists, geneticists, and a whole lab crew. Plus that jackass didn't realize that without the basic programs designed to interpret and host the raw program data it was useless. And he didn't realize that because..." Louis paused, reading the job duties on the file. "I'll be damned. Because our boy Howard was only a greedy ass accountant that had been recently fired."

Across the room, Rochelle exploded.

"You're telling me all this happened because a disgruntled worker wanted to make a quick buck!? You're telling me..." She choked on her words. She pushed off the counter, eyes flashing with anger, and as Zoey watched, deep hidden grief. "I, I..." Rochelle held a hand up to cover her mouth and ran out of the lab.

Louis jumped up to follow but Zoey held up her hand to stop him. "Keep working. I'll check on her."

Louis slowly sat down as Zoey trotted after her, wanting to follow.

"So what now?"

Collins's voice snapped him back to the present. "I'm sorry?"

"What do we do now?"

Louis furrowed his brow. "We get necessary programs off the network, and get these laptops to the CDC as fast as we can. If what you said about the infection is true, there's a chance we can save what's left of this world." His chest tightened when the reality of his own words settled on his ears. The weight on his shoulders was suddenly very heavy.

* * *

Rochelle shoved the contents of the office desk to the floor, hoping the action would ease some of her pain. As usual, it didn't. Nothing ever did. She could level a hundred buildings and slay a million of those beasts and she would still hurt just as much, but now that she knew the reason _why_ was one man's simple greed, it hurt more.

When the infection was some mysterious mutation of an influenza strain, she could accept it as something God had inflicted on the world. She could accept that millions of people were dying as was determined in the course of nature, but the truth had undone her understanding. It was a virus engineered by humans to destroy humans, and destroy it had. Young, old, healthy, and ill; strangers and family. It took and ravaged like a real plague, stealing life away from any it touched, including one very special two year old girl. She was life that had sprung from her very own, she had been her world.

And now she was dead.

The control slipped, the smile evaporated. She didn't know if she'd ever get it back as she picked up her axe and tore into the walls around her.

"Rochelle?"

Zoey waited patiently by the door, watching with great understanding as the woman buried the axe in the sheetrock, pulled back and set upon it again. Finally with one herculean swing, she hit a 2x4 and the axe imbedded so deeply she couldn't pull it out. Slumping to the ground in exhaustion, she wrapped her arms around herself, leaning her head against the wall when her strength left her.

"She was just a baby. We were going to take on the world together."

Zoey walked carefully over to her and sat cross legged on the ground before her, and just listened.

"I knew from the day I found out I was pregnant that she was special." Rochelle paused, her face twisting in grief. "But not special enough." Zoey picked up Rochelle's hand. Focusing on the young woman, Rochelle sighed. "So immunity comes down the daddy's side?"

"Yeah." Zoey confirmed quietly.

"David really was a waste of air then. Couldn't even give her decent genetics."

"I'm so sorry."

It was all Zoey could think to say. Though she understood the pain of loss, but couldn't fathom the pain that came with the loss of a child.

"You're not supposed to bury your kids, they're supposed to bury you." Rochelle's voice came out weakly, echoing the pain she felt, but she did not cry. She had cried so much in the first week she thought she'd run out of tears. All she had left was anger, sorrow, and the warmth of those around her. She'd never told any of her boys what had happened. The very thought of their pity and sad faces would be too much to cope with on a daily basis. Their smiles had been what had kept her going and brought a glimpse of what it felt like to be normal again.

Rochelle the mommy was dead. She'd died with her baby right there in that crib and resurrected as a different person the moment her baby's eyes grayed and she tried to bite a chunk out of Rochelle's arm. She was someone else now, someone who saw the horrific memory of smothering a tiny zombie baby with a pillow as the scene out of a terrible movie.

"It's my own fault. Mom and Dad told me from day one that my attraction to the worst possible men would be my undoing. I just wish they were around to say I told you so. I could really use my mom right now, you know?"

"Me too." Zoey smiled sadly.

Shuffling at the door caught both of their attentions. Rochelle jumped to her feet, wide eyed and flush with anger.

"Who's bein' a creeper?" She demanded at the figure looming out of sight. Zoey rose as well, curiously watching the shadow on the floor, knowing with the amount of fidgeting who it was. She could picture him in her head, scraping for something to say.

"Louis?" Zoey called.

Louis shuffled shyly into the doorway; yet it wasn't embarrassment that covered his face but grief. He was overwhelmed from what he'd heard of Rochelle's story. It was the first time since she'd met him that Zoey had seen such a display from him. The usual joy and spark had been actually been doused.

He didn't speak. Surprising the hell out of both women, he crossed the room and enveloped Rochelle in his arms. Frozen stiff in surprise, Rochelle looked to Zoey who quietly exited the room, her hands shoved in her pockets as she turned the corner with a smile across her face.

The hug did not relent. Rochelle waited for him to get awkward and release, but he didn't budge. Instead, when she didn't relax he shifted and whispered into the top of her head.

"I'm sorry."

Between the contact and the heart wrenching tone of his voice she finally lost it. Accepting his grief for her child, she broke down and cried.

* * *

_After that horrible first day she holed up in a convenience store, unable to stand the sight, smell, or heavy grief she felt when she ventured glances at the motionless bodies of her parents, especially the penny sized hole she'd left in her father's chest. Sitting against the wall in the store she clutched the pistol to her stomach, watching every passing shadow with wide eyed fear. _

_The crackling red spots still clung to her face from the spray of her father's blood after she'd pulled the trigger. If she wasn't so terrified of the things limping by outside the door she'd find a mirror and clean herself, but mostly she was just numb. The screams and gunshots wafted over her, but did not provoke tears or gasps from her mouth. They just existed somewhere outside. _

_Earlier in the day a group of men had battled a horde right outside the front window, killing the group, then running off for more with battle cries, even laughter from some. She dared not reveal herself, continuing to favor avoiding all people until she was forced to leave the store. It was still too early to tell the dead from the living half the time since they were all still so fresh, plus there was no way to know when someone would turn._

_Two days passed in that manner. _

_She slept only when her body literally shut down and forced her to, and just as she feared, it was during sleep she'd been discovered._

_The pounding on the door startled her to her feet and before she could run and hide she was being stared down by three surprised men. _

_"Is she a stiff?" _

_"No!" She cried, trembling as she gripped her pistol. The three men looked back and forth in surprise. _

_"She's sure pretty though." Another laughed. _

_"Stay away from me!" She warned._

_"We're just hungry, girlie."_

_The way he said it made Zoey cringe. _

_"I bet you are, just let me go and you can have the store! Problem solved, no trouble for anyone."_

_"It's really not safe out there alone, speaking of which, where the hell did that big bastard go?" The first one said again, looking out the door._

_"Probably got too excited shooting those things again. Show off." The second man replied. Zoey started scooting towards the back door. _

_"He's kinda scary when he gets going. Shit, sombitch is scary when he's not going too."_

_"Whatya expect being that big and mean looking? Whole world's his punching bag."_

_Zoey frowned. Even if those three weren't scary enough, the fourth guy they were describing sounded terrifying, and she didn't want to be anywhere close when he showed up. Quietly pushing the handle she slipped out the door and ran as hard and fast as her legs could carry her._

_The three laughed amongst themselves until the latch of the back door closing caught their attention. Wide eyed, all three men ran for it. Pushing the door open they scanned the alley but she was gone. _

_"Girl! Girl! It's not safe! We weren't kidding! Come back! We'll help you!" The third man yelled, hoping his voice would carry far enough. _

_"Aw, damnit, she probably thought you were a creepster, Earl! I got a daughter that age, I shoulda done the talkin! If I hadn't known you since we were kids I'd throw you in a pack of those man munchers. Come on morons, let's go find Francis before he gets ate too."_

_Thump thump-thump-thumpthumpthumpthumpthump..._

_Her heart throbbed as she pushed on, forcing her feet out one by one. They were behind her, they were beside her, they were in front of her and they were very hungry. There was no point in stopping to shoot, she didn't have enough bullets for more than three of them. Spinning around a corner she flung herself forward, but as she tore into the shadows her eyes adjusted and fell on another group of people. Skidding to a stop they turned around and she instantly realized her mistake._

_Not people. _

_Screaming, she was hit from behind and was sent face first into the ground. Curling into a fetal position as fists and feet pounded away at her, she wailed and screamed, knowing in her heart that would be where her life ended. _

_Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat_

_Bodies fell in a wave around and on her. A hand reached through the mess and pulled her out, dragging her into a room. She didn't come to her senses until the slam of the door jarred her back to the present. Somehow she hadn't lost grip on the pistol so she scurried back into a corner and held it out before her. Too much fear and too much adrenaline kept her words locked tightly in her throat as she saw the looming figure with silver hair and a green beret before the boarded windows, peering out. _

_The wafting scent of cigarette smoke tickled her nose. _

_"Name's Bill and I ain't gonna hurt you, dear." He finally said, his gravelly voice shattering the silence._

_Zoey slowly lowered her weapon, arms aching from the beating, unable to remember just how to use her voice. The old man however had plenty to say._

_"I see that blood on your face. I won't ask how it got there, but the water back there is still working if you wanna get it off."_

_Zoey scrambled up to enter the restroom but froze at the threshold, staring wide eyed back at the old man. He felt her gaze and finally made eye contact, recognizing the fear of being abandoned while vulnerable. She knew he couldn't sneak away if she didn't lose sight of him. Even if she didn't know or trust him he was still an extra set of eyes and a gun that hadn't yet threatened her, and not half as scary as that group of three rough looking men. Bill cracked a grin that made Zoey frown harder, realizing that he thought the sight of her just standing there was amusing._

_"I ain't gonna run on ya. Unless you want me to."_

_Zoey shook her head profusely and stepped in the restroom- propping the door open with a trashcan so she could keep him in sight regardless. When she finished cleaning herself she returned to her corner to watch Bill watch the door. Several times over the next hour a huge commotion would stir outside, mingled with screams of those unfortunate souls without a place to go. _

_Zoey's stomach lurched every time a human voice winked out, as freshly affected by the new victims as she was the first night in the convenience store. It reminded her of watching Charlton Heston's Ten Commandments with her dad, during the Passover scene when the stricken screams of mothers sounded as their first born sons were slaughtered around the city in the homes with unmarked doors. The difference now was that it was real, and the helplessness and haunted nausea would not go away._

_Also, why wasn't the old man helping them? Gathering her courage under the guise of disgust she whimpered her query. "How come you're not helping them too?"_

_The old man turned on his makeshift chair, leveling an irritated stare at her. "I shouldn't have even saved you. I only got the supplies for one."_

_"Then why?"_

_"People got a duty to look after all those less... equipped than themselves if they're able to. Gives'm purpose, and one's about all an old sack of bones like mine can manage."_

_"That's kinda cold."_

_"It's life, dear, and if you wanna live, you're going to have to accept it. We can't live beyond our means. Doing so will get ya killed in times like this."_

_"What if we find people that can look after themselves?"_

_Bill frowned uncomfortably. "Ideally, I'd want a team of four competent people who can move quickly and quietly, but that's really not likely." Zoey's face darkened, his words crushing the tiny flame of hope she was desperately clinging to. He knew couldn't just smite it within the first ten minutes of meeting her, so he compromised. "Look, kiddo. We'll see who we stumble on. I just want as few complications as possible."_

_"I'm sure we can find more people in the next couple days!"_

_"Hold on now, put the doe-eyes away. Just because we stumble on someone doesn't mean they'll be nice as me or you. There's risks, dangers... uncertainties about people til you know'm."_

_"You didn't exactly interview me."_

_"Cause you're a girl! Girls are less rotten!"_

_"Bullshit, Grandpa." She snorted, smiling for the first time in days._

_"I said less rotten, not, uh, un-rotten." He grumped in what Zoey could only assume was an unsure but irritated tone that old men practiced when they hit a certain age. In any child, or hell, even grown up children it inspired affection and memories of their own grandfathers. "Sides, you wear your heart on your sleeve. Just lookin at you I know you're a good kid."_

_"Might need your eyes checked a bit." _

_Zoey liked him immediately. Pushing up to her feet again, a flicker of light danced briefly across her eyes. She purposely grasped at the desire to save more people because clinging to life while surrounded by death wasn't only appealing, it was the only way she knew how to hold onto her sanity. He'd laid down his rules and she accepted them without question. She couldn't be dead weight or a burden to the old man. If her need was really for the affirmation of life that more souls would provide, it was imperative to prove it. She had certain skills, and wasn't weak or stupid. That had to be worth something and expand their means to live if only by a little bit._

_"I'll be useful, I promise."_

_"Would help."_

_"I will, just tell me what to do. I can shoot. I can... uh... not much else really."_

_"Yet. I'll teach you what I can." Bill pursed his lips in thought then shrugged, looking down at her solitary pistol. "Starters, you need to clean that thing. Guns don't just work like magic, they're quite touchy if you don't take care of them. One misfire and we're both dead."_

_"How?" Her father had always cleaned the weapons after a day at the range. It never really dawned on her that guns could stop working._

_Bill pulled up a pack he'd just emptied when consolidating into one. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary to save space anymore. Tossing it to Zoey he pulled out a polish and a bottle of oil from the other pack._

_"Come sit. I'll show ya."_

_Zoey watched as he slowly took apart the weapon and showed her the process of cleaning the weapon then handed it to her to do on her own, having her repeat the assembly process a few times to be sure she had it down. When they finished he fished out a holster from his pack and handed it to her, hoping it would work. Zoey worked it onto her belt and secured her weapon as well as a few ammo clips he armed her with. She felt more natural without having to hold the thing all the time, but the weight of the weapon and accessories was uncomfortable. Storing the polish kit with a couple other items she found in the shelter into her new pack, she set it in her corner. _

_Pulling another bucket up beside Bill she looked out the window, trying to see what he did as he stared into the dark. It was distracting enough for the time being to keep her mind off her family and the horrible circumstances of the last few days. If it was up to her she'd bottle up those terrible feelings and throw them away, never to revisit them again. _

_Zoey cracked the silence._

_"Bill? Never told you, but I'm Zoey."_

_Bill grunted and lit up a cigarette, "Good to know, dear, but keep it quiet for a while. Don't need any extra attention our way."_

_Zoey frowned and wrinkled her nose, blatantly ignoring his direction. "Those things will kill you."_

_Bill smirked, his old eyes twinkling in amusement. "We'll live into the answer I guess."_

* * *

Zoey entered the lab and snorted as Collins jumped back and forth between computer screens, trying to make sure, but having no clue if everything was going smoothly.

"I told him to stay but he wouldn't listen!" Collins panicked.

"Relax, I'm sure everything is fine."

The echo of laughter floated up the stairwell as the generator party returned. Ellis's laughter was near uncontrollable while Nick, Coach, and Francis went back and forth. Coming in the door Ellis couldn't contain himself.

"Francis got charged by a little person! Sumbitch bounced _off_!"

Zoey's face lit up as the rest of the conquering heroes entered.

"Felt wrong to shoot him." Francis said uncomfortably.

"You did though, right?" Zoey asked.

"Didn't see the need to waste the bullets."

Nick snorted. "Liar."

Ellis leaned on a counter, holding his stomach. "Francis threw him out the door. Told the lil bastard to grow up and try again later."

"I was saving bullets!" Francis insisted.

"I had no idea you were so... sentimental."

"Saving bullets is serious business, Zoey! There's vampires out there!"

"Softy."

"There ain't an inch of softness anywhere on me!" He argued, turning red with irritation, the glint in his eye daring her to keep going. "I'll prove it if I have to! I was saving bullets!"

She bit her lip, and subsequently swallowed her rebuttal before his brain imploded.

"She already told you no one wants to see you naked." Nick grumbled, walking over to check the screens Collins was watching. "Where's the geek?"

"Busy." Zoey answered quickly, drawing a curious look from Francis.

Uninterested, Ellis looked to Collins seriously. "I'd say we got about 2 safe hours left of gas in there. 3 if it doesn't need primer."

Collins paled. "Just 2-3?"

"The city is running on that thing and having us here in the last couple of days probably ate a lot of it up."

"And we're gonna get the hell out of here before we have to find out how much." Francis said seriously, the levity of the previous moment dissolved.

"I can't yet!" Collins sputtered, returning his anxious gaze to the screen.

"Why the hell not?" Nick blurted, stalking forward.

"We need this information!"

"There's no _we_ anywhere in this!" Francis added, moving beside Nick. "It's not our damn job to fix this thing! Not going to risk our lives just for some... some... what the hell kinda crap is it anyway?"

"Possibly the cure." Zoey said softly, chewing on the inside of her cheek in thought when a surprised hike of his eyebrows rendered Francis silent.

"Look, guys," Collins began, facing the group fully. "I have no right to ask you to stay, and I will hold no grudge if you leave. Getting this information out is my job."

"And mine." Louis echoed from the door. Zoey and Francis turned horrified faces back on him.

"Louis, no!" Francis clipped.

At Louis's side, Rochelle's face was blank until she clenched her jaw and nodded. _No more dead babies and children. _"And mine."

Nick, Coach, and Ellis sputtered complaints, then the room erupted into arguments and pleading. Zoey just stood in the middle, watching the fear and concern pass over their faces, betraying some of the angry words flying around. For a short minute a fog descended over her as she thought, taking in everything in slow motion.

Nick's anger.

Ellis's grief.

Coach's disbelief.

Collins's sense of duty.

Louis's determination.

Rochelle's defiance.

Francis's fear.

The words echoed and bounced around as she tried to absorb it all. Their feelings were raw and bared for all to see, but she was empty.

_How do I feel about it? _What were you supposed to do when you were given two such paths? One road was certain self preservation. Another was potentially fatal, yet held the prospect of saving millions.

The more people that stayed, the better chance the laptops had of making it into the hands of people who could use them to save lives. The only options were people who had been irreparably damaged by the infection; people who had no worldly reason to put themselves at risk when they'd already crawled out of the thick of it and lost so much.

Bill would say get the hell out. Bill would say take care of your own. Bill would cut the throats of those blocking his group's path when there was no way out, when they were beyond their means. He'd proven that in a manner that Zoey damn near wanted to abandon him for, but he'd never wavered.

"_People got a duty to look after all those less... equipped than themselves if they're able to."_

Bill would also note that they weren't beyond their means, not even close. Zoey remembered that first night with the old man, asking an endless line of questions that almost made him want to jump back out into the horde. He'd been so sure of himself, even if he couldn't rightly explain why he felt the way he did. He just believed. He had faith in doing the right thing his way, even if it killed him in the end. Maybe he hadn't been off the deep end killing people one day and himself the next. It fit. He'd saved and prepared those within his means, and removed outside threats to that group without hesitation.

The strange thing was, he succeeded. Francis, Louis, and Zoey were all still alive and thriving for the most part. In the beginning Louis was too green. Francis was too... _Francis_. Zoey was too hesitant.

Louis had grown savvy. Francis had thawed. Zoey had found her footing. They were equipped with the means to protect, to survive, and... to pay forward.

"I'm staying." Zoey whispered, her face twisting in surprise at her own words. Straightening her back as she returned within herself, she swallowed hard and tightened her throat as she ventured into the fray. "I'm staying too!" She yelled this time, silencing the room.

A heavy hand rested on her shoulder as Francis choked out his shock. "What?!"

She turned around, expecting a red fury to be taking residence on his face, but confusion dotted with suspicion and undeniable concern painted a strange expression.

"When you have the means to do the right thing, there's no opting out." She explained, tossing a glance over her shoulder at Louis who smiled warmly back and nodded.

"Says who?" Nick snorted.

Francis crossed his arms and scowled. "Bill. He's gotta burn my ass even when he'd dead. Noble jackass."

"So does that mean you're staying too?" Nick asked incredulously.

Francis clenched his jaw as he thought, until her small hand clasped his and she spoke. "However. We had an agreement. If you say go..." She trailed off.

Zoey swallowed hard while Francis's face darkened. Feeling strongly about a chance to save lives was not the same as the selfish desire to return to civilization that she had back at the colony. This was selfless, noble, brave... stupid. So technically it was right up his alley. At the very least, he knew why his stomach had been doing flips all day. He rolled his eyes with a depressed sigh of surrender.

"Well. I don't."

Nick nearly stumbled back in surprise. "Do you all hear yourselves?! There is no moral obligation here! Risking your lives for some pie-in-the sky possibility that the infection can be cured with a few research reports is insanity! You have all lost family and friends in this! You have no duty to anyone else that's still alive! Francis, you didn't even have anyone left to lose when the infection hit, what the hell is this about?"

"An old man's dying wishes."

"To do what?!"

He unconsciously smiled at the memory. "Keep'm safe and let'm work."

Spinning around Nick glared down Coach and Ellis. "And you two?"

"We can save people." Ellis admitted quietly, looking away. "Be heroes."

"Ellis! Heroes die! Coach, tell him!"

Crossing his arms, Coach frowned. "Nick, when you're an old fart like me and opportunity like this falls in your lap one thing becomes very clear: I'd rather die a hero than live a coward for the rest of my lonely days. My wife's dead, kids probably are too. I'm not going to show up at the pearly gates and have to explain to my wife my shame of turning down the opportunity to save millions of lives because I decided to be a worthless coward."

"You... you... morons." Nick sighed and sat in a rolling chair, burying his hands in his usually immaculate hair.

"What about you, Nick?" Ellis ventured carefully. Nick looked up at the young mechanic, disturbed by the lack of a smile on his face. He really didn't have a choice in the matter anymore.

"Where would I go? Who would put up with me? Seeing as I have the only working brain around here, I'm going to make sure we all live, damnit! Fuck dying, fuck being a hero!" Nick launched out of the chair and started furiously barking orders. "Louis, make that damn thing download faster!"

"Nick, it doesn't work like-"

"I don't care! Everyone turn off all the damn lights! Unplug everything!"

Francis and Louis shared a surprised look, until Nick was barking in their direction again. "Francis get your sasquatch ass on the bike and get back to the house! Start packing! Ellis, Coach, go with him!"

"Rochelle! Zoey! Get armed! If any of those freaks start waking up, scratch their fucking eyes out!"

As Louis passed Francis he chuckled under his breath, "Is it just me or did Bill just possess that asshole?"

"I hope not." Francis growled heading for the door. Just as he passed Nick, the man reached in his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. Slamming on the brakes Francis gaped then whipped his head back to Louis.

"Move, _Chewie_, move!" Nick roared at Francis, pushing him out the door then spun around to Louis, noting wryly as Coach and Ellis sprinted after Francis. "How long?"

"About 2 and a half hours."

"Why is it always so damn close! Why can't it ever go smooth?!" Nick steamed, leaning on the counter as he viewed the screen over Louis's shoulder.

Collins gathered himself, allowing his internal soldier to take over, as he addressed Nick. "I'm going to set up an airstrike. I will give the go ahead when the generator fails whether or not we are out. We can't let those things get loose and wreak hell on remaining civilian populations."

"Just going to have to be ready." Nick checked his watch then frowned. "I'll go help the meathead pack. You four be ready to run."

"My truck is an operations stash. Stop by and pack as much ammo and weaponry as you need. I'll go down and open it up for you so I can get some extra for us."

The pair disappeared out the door leaving Rochelle, Louis, and Zoey to watch the computer. Rochelle suddenly jumped into action, unplugging every non essential powered device she found. Zoey followed suit running out of the office to turn off all lights and unplug anything she happened upon. Returning to the lab she found Louis and Rochelle beginning to setup a barricade. Rushing to help, Zoey ignored the familiar twisting in her stomach. It was never in their luck to make it out before the shit hit the fan.

Battle was imminent.

_Roughly two hours later..._

The team watched with dry mouths and weapons clutched tightly to their chests as the progress bar moved pixel by pixel. Every several minutes the lights would flicker as the generator faltered. Thankfully it had not yet seized.

"Are you sure you can't make it go faster?" Zoey asked, trying to suppress the urgency in her voice. "More importantly, what's taking the guys so damn long?"

Louis didn't move as he responded with a bit of irritation. "Like the little sister I'm glad I never had, I love you Zoey, but I will strangle you if you ask that question again."

"Make that two of us." Collins mumbled as he sat on a counter turning to look out over the warehouse of glowing green tubes. Thankfully, they were all still lit.

"Why can't we just shoot them one by one in the tubes?" Zoey asked, siding up to the fed, unable to keep quiet with her nervous energy.

"I asked the docs the same thing. They said it's one pressure system. If there's a breech, they all shut down. Apparently that green shit is toxic to healthy people."

"So they'd all wake up at once anyway."

"Yep. And we don't have time for Louis to figure out how to shut them down one by one."

"Not to mention trying to take down those tanks." Zoey shuddered.

"Let's just leave them right where they are." Rochelle mumbled and peered over as well, trying to wish away her nausea. The army of special zombies awaited below. It would have no big deal if they were just common infected, she wouldn't be scared of 200 of those. It was like facing an entire army of the zombie equivalent of Navy Seals.

"97%." Louis announced.

Collins checked his watch and sighed heavily. "In five minutes we will reach two and a half hours. According to Ellis, that is when we breach the known limit of the generators. Everything can go out at-" The lights flickered and dimmed for a few more seconds before staying on steady. Everyone in the group held their breath. "-any time."

"You think they'll stay sleeping if I sing lullabies?" Rochelle joked sourly.

"No but you might make me feel better." Zoey checked the rifle for the seventh time in ten minutes. "Someone tell me again why I volunteered to stay behind?"

"When you figure that out, let me know. I'm starting to feel a bit foolish myself." Rochelle agreed, softly nudging Zoey's arm, who smiled warmly in return.

"Thanks for the words of encouragement, ladies." Louis grumbled, slouching down in the chair. Collins suppressed a smile over at the window.

"It's not about faith in your abilities, Louis." Zoey assured him. "It's our shit luck."

"Plus I don't know if Ellis can even count to twenty without taking his shoes off." Rochelle ribbed.

"And this is the man we sent to check the generator!" Louis exclaimed, jumping out of his chair.

"I'm kidding!" Rochelle laughed. "He is an excellent mechanic!" Louis didn't share her confidence as he watched the progress bar.

"98%"

The lights dimmed momentarily and everyone held their breath until they steadied.

"Anyone else starting to freak out just a little bit?" Zoey asked, voice cracking. Rochelle nodded vigorously. Collins swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the rows of green tubes. As long as they were lit there was no danger.

Five more minutes passed in absolute silence.

"99%"

The lights dimmed again, but did not rebound. Louis felt his heart speed up with every lost lumen. "Collins. Airstrike." Three sets of eyes burned in the back of Louis's head. Turning back to the girls Louis swallowed hard. "Those lights aren't coming back."

"Roger." Collins confirmed and started to make calls.

"What if it doesn't finish?" Rochelle asked quietly.

"I'll rewrite the program code manually. The second we lose power, we are..." The lights blinked several times then faded into darkness. "Cutting and running." One by one all the LCD screens in the lab blinked off. Rochelle and Zoey ran and jumped on the counter looking through the window out over the warehouse floor. Like old Christmas lights, all the tubes began to blink out.

"Like I said. _Shit. Luck._" Zoey breathed.

When the last tube turned to black the entire complex was enveloped in darkness and a chilling silence.


	15. Ghost In The Machine

Note: This was originally going to be the last chapter, but since I will not be writing a novel format sequel to this story, there will be two more chapters, both of which will take a bit longer to write because they will be from a raw outline and not a pre-written draft. When it's all over I plan to write follow a follow up/ season two in episodic format so I don't have to commit to another 150k plus word novel. Also, this is officially a crossover in the Valve universe now, but not to the point where I find it necessary to change the category. Sorry if anyone missed the last update. I happened to upload the chapter right in the middle of the glitch that kept update notifications from going out. Enjoy the chapter Science Fans!

* * *

**Chapter 14: Ghost In The Machine**

_"I hate falling... I hate this cold steel shit around my arms and waist... I don't want to fall... how far down does this damn hole go... why can't I see any daylight... it's my fault... I let her make me stupid... I hate it... I don't regret it... son of bitch... I hope she's ok... it's all her fault... made me think I'm more than I am... if I ever see her again... I'll let her know just how pissed off I am about it... if I ever see her again... if I ever see her again... shit..."_

It was disturbing to hear the ghostly sound bites echoing through the speakers accompanying the video memory fragments. Some subjects were less coherent than others and some had no thoughts at all, just images and external sounds. This file was surprisingly articulate which spoke to the linear mindset of the subject in question, and what was usually a more basic mind. A large percentage of cataloged psyches were like a mass of thread, spinning and winding senselessly into a massive knot with no determinable end, beginning, or structure- usually not even corresponding to the sensory input displayed on the screen. This subject merely reacted the visions before its eyes, so input equaled a relatively reasonable output, which just made her job easier.

Aside from the ease of translation, it wasn't a particularly interesting file. They never were. She'd seen things in her years that would mentally scar others, but she was long past caring about the images on screen. They meant nothing to her at the moment of interpolation, and if time was a indicator, they never would to anyone else. If it wasn't for protocol she would just dump them in the incinerator and be done with it. The files were never to be returned to the subjects, and were just useless bits of information being stored for the indeterminate future until the order came down to trash them.

She thought it wasteful, but it was her function to follow protocol not question it.

While the information was generally useless, she'd found that taking subject specific notes assisted in creating better testing environments and stimuli, which intern made for the best data. The best data made the most progress, and the greater the progress, the greater the advances for the directive. The directive was the core, it was the purpose, it was the meaning of all life.

It was _science_.

Rewinding the file she played it from the beginning of the chapter, double checking her fastidious notes.

* * *

"I _told_ you to shoot the little shit!" Nick snarled, pulling at his hair again. If he kept it up, he'd be bald in a month.

It was unreal. It was...

...

Damnit. Unreal was the only word that fit.

"How was I supposed to know this would happen!" Francis snapped back, his voice cracking with uncertainty.

Ellis bent over and placed his hands on his knees, howling with laughter while tears streamed down his red face. "He went- he went- oh God- he went and got his friends!"

"I doubt... _that_." Coach said slowly, shaking his head, not entirely sure how to process what his eyes were seeing. The little charger from earlier snorted and paced amongst a herd of common infected thoughtlessly ambling in the garage and around the house.

"Vampires don't think!" Francis sputtered, gaping at the sight with the others, behind a truck parked a ways down the street. "How would it know where we're staying!?"

"And where the hell did all those commons come from?" Coach pondered quietly, ignoring Nick as he zeroed in on Francis.

"What kind of dumbass would assume the thing knew?! The freshest human scents around here are in that house!" Nick nearly foamed at the mouth, trying to fathom why he was even taking part in such an asinine conversation. Growling, he sneered at Francis. "Though I'm perfectly willing to blame it on you!"

Ellis finally fell to the ground, clutching his stomach while he tried to catch his breath. Intentional or not, as far as he was concerned, the little guy held a grudge for being told to grow up. Francis and Nick ignored him, perfectly content to continue bickering.

"Blow it out your ass, shitpants!"

"How about you shove-"

"Guys, _guys_." Wiping his eyes, Ellis crawled up from the ground, fighting off hiccups and waving to break up the others. "Come on, relax, I got this." Pulling out a pipebomb from his pack, Ellis coolly lit the fuse and gave it a hard toss down the road.

The explosive bounced and rolled, quickly followed by shambling, running, and limping infected. The timer quickly sped up and a hefty explosion rocked the ground, puffing a wave of force outward with a shower of errant body parts.

"Got'm!" Ellis cheered, jumping. "Ho boy! That one had some extra mustard, huh? Gotta get me some more of those Louis specials."

"Got any more of those on you?" Francis asked dryly, sobering up rapidly when something caught his eye beyond the blast zone. He reached back for the combat grade shotgun he'd liberated from Collins's truck, drawing the curious glances of the others.

Ellis shook his head. "No, why?"

"I don't think that's a parade turning the corner."

Nick, Ellis, and Coach stood and looked down the road where Francis's eyes were narrowly fixed on a slow moving stream of infected.

"They're coming toward the source of the explosion." Coach deducted, pulling out his own shotgun. Catching movement out of the side of his eye he nearly jumped through his skin when a small group of infected wandered out from between the houses, gurgling and twisting their heads around as they considered the warm bodies before them. "Move, boys!" Turning his shotgun on them as the rest of the group scrambled around the truck into the middle of the street, Coach unloaded a few shots and followed. Ellis and Nick rolled two of the four bikes out with them. If they planned on packing anything they had to bring them into the garage.

Assembling in an outward facing circle they all pulled out their primary weapons and assessed the growing threat.

"Well this day just went to shit!" Ellis fumed, blindly slamming a fresh clip home in his high powered rifle. Infected seemed to seep out of every nook and cranny around them.

"Where the hell are they coming from!? The development was empty when we got here!" Nick complained loudly, gripping his AK with white knuckles from the protected side of the bike.

"Does it really matter?" Francis growled, strapping on the shotgun to pull out the katana. Adjusting his hold on the hilt, he twisted the clean blade as he held it as out, the sun glinting off the steel. "They're in our way."

Coach cleared his throat. "Don't know about you gentlemen, but I think it'd be best to receive our guests in the house."

"Best idea I heard all damn day." Nick said hastily, opening fire on the line of infected before him, clearing a path up the drive. "Sasquatch! Lead the way!" When his weapon clicked empty, Francis tore off towards the house, blade on his shoulder as he leapt through the pile of bodies, bringing it down frighteningly fast on the unfortunate zombies stumbling out of the garage. Nick and Ellis pushed the bikes up into the garage with all their might, and Coach followed them in, spinning around to kneel when Francis hit the switch and the door began to descend. Nick and Ellis joined him and the trio opened fire, leveling anything that dared get close enough to impede the closing door. When it touched down all four tore into the house, locking the door behind them.

"Those doors won't hold long. Garage doors these days are complete shit. Grandma bumped her Olds into one last summer and the damn thing collapsed." Ellis informed them, digging into the ammo stash for some more pipebombs and extra clips for his rifle.

Muffled barking and scratching caught Francis's attention. "Bill's still here? I thought he was with Zoey at the lab!"

Ellis nodded, glancing over his shoulder. "Yeah, put him in the basement when we left, didn't want him to get ate while we were out."

Francis stomped over to the basement door and threw it open, releasing the animal. He'd been so distracted he didn't even notice the dog was missing earlier. "Stick around, old man, it's about to get ugly."

Cursing, Nick raised his rifle and opened fire at the front window. The glass shattered as he felled a pair creeping up to the window, clearing a path for Ellis to toss out another explosive.

"Defensible position suggestions?" Coach asked, firing a shot out another window.

"Kitchen." Francis and Ellis echoed, turning wary expressions on each other.

After the pipebomb detonated, pounding began on windows and doors. The horde had arrived.

* * *

She was giddy.

Or the closest possible approximation.

The security camera feed was supplying her a front row seat to her grand experiment. Watching the meatbags scurry around the development as she released new waves of infected wasn't only great testing, it was downright entertaining.

Switching feeds, she focused on the four still in the lab. When the countdown ended upon generator failure, the second stage had been set. It was only a matter of time before the numbers would thin and the heartiest of the subjects would rise to the next level. She would continue to push them until their seals figuratively popped, and her efforts were rewarded with advanced specimens.

Settling in, her dead yellow eye glimmered in excitement.

Speaking of broken seals. The kids were coming out to play.

* * *

A dull emergency light flicked on over the exit. Louis turned off the laptop and shoved it in the backpack with the other then strapped it on and located his weapon. All four gun lights clicked to life and they pointed them out the windows into the warehouse.

Zoey held her breath when she thought she felt a low vibration through her feet. Placing her palm down on the counter she inhaled and held her breath. It was like an earthquake gaining strength. Stomach churning, she closed her eyes then slowly reached over and flicked off her light. Soon, the vibration turned into a rumbling that slowly shook the very ground they stood on.

"Any of you seen Jurassic Park?" She asked with a dry mouth. The three remaining lights turned on her. Zoey sputtered and dropped to the floor out of the beams. "Don't point those at me!"

"Why?" Collins asked.

"When T-Rex escaped, it was attracted to moving light! I think that might apply here!" She hissed, her voice dropping to a whisper. All three turned their lights off as fast as they could. In the darkness Zoey's heart rate surged when the quaking walls took a turn for the worse. "We need to get the hell out of here! Collins? Where was that vault?!"

"Do you think-"

The windows shattered in a rain of glass as a large meaty appendage reached through the frame. All four hit the ground and scrambled into corners as it scrounged for a live prize with a deafening roar.

"Follow me!" Collins yelled and began to crawl away.

"Super Tank!?" Zoey whispered in terror as an entire column of counters was ripped out and pulled through the window. Thanks to the emergency exit light, they were able to pick out Collins's shadow crawling away. Suppressing cries of horror they followed, dodging the giant hand between swipes. Cracking steel and building materials fell in their wake.

Once they were out of its immediate grasp, Collins lead them down a side hall connected to the lab. Turning a nearby corner they found a massive steel door that had once been used to lock down sensitive samples. Collins waved them in and strained to pull it shut, crying out in failing effort. "It's normally a powered door!"

Rochelle heard the upchuck of a spitter down the hall. Quickly she pulled Collins into the vault as the volatile acid pooled around the entrance, then a line of boney spears imbedded into the sheetrock above their heads.

"The door!" Zoey cried and knelt, enabling the light on her rifle. Louis ran forward and stood with his prosthetic in the goo, attempting to pull the door shut with a strained yell, but the monolith refused to budge. Collins ran to the edge of the acid and pulled on Louis's arm for leverage, managing to pull it closer inch by terrible inch.

"SONOFABITCH! Where is that gorilla Francis when you need him!" Louis howled as his intact leg burned.

"Pull!" Rochelle cried, reloading her M16.

Screams of various infected echoed down the hall as the swarm filtered through the halls on the scent trails of live prey. Zoey and Rochelle began shooting out the entryway at anything that moved, wanting to lower their weapons in awe as strange looking creatures filtered into the hall. The door was mere inches from shutting when Rochelle dropped her weapon, hearing familiar groan and snort reminiscent of a bull.

"Zoey, stop firing and back away from the door!"

"Why?!" Zoey yelped.

"Trust me!"

Zoey dropped her weapon and retreated, watching out through the crack as what looked like a battering ram sped down the hall at an alarming rate. It impacted the vault with tremendous force, slamming it the rest of the way shut. Louis and Collins went flying backward and landed in a heap on the ground just as the acid was neutralized by the oxygen in the atmosphere.

"Turn the crank!" Collins yelled. Rochelle and Zoey leapt forward to spin the manual locking mechanism, grunting in effort as the bolt slid into place. They nervously backed away to the rear of the small room while inhuman screams and the pounding of special infected continued unabated outside. The floor still shook with terrifying intensity as the two super tanks tried to seek an exit to the facility, hopefully having lost interest in the quick meal.

The group of four squeezed tightly together against the back wall, gun lights trained on the door with itchy trigger fingers. Louis grit his teeth at the acid burns on his good ankle, but they weren't bad enough to warrant immediate attention. Collins sighed, not happy to be back in the metal prison again.

"Now what?" Zoey asked quietly. Louis rubbed his sore leg before deciding to answer her question, tossing a disdainful look in the direction of the laptop bag. _Damn things better be worth it._

"Wait until we are either brave enough- or _dumb_ enough- to leave." He sighed, casting weary glances at the trembling walls. "I really hope the others got the hell out already."

"Me too... _be careful out there you moron_." Zoey whispered, burying her head in her arms. Between the fear and adrenaline her shoulders began to shake and she had a hard time keeping her hands still, but no one could tell with the shuddering walls and floor masking it. Tempting her like a mirage in the desert, her irrational fears threatened to take over and bury her within herself. Gathering the tenuous grasp she had on her mind, she mumbled into her sleeves, trying and failing to soothe her own nerves. "Don't let go... just hold on... we're ok... he's ok..."

An arm wrapped around her shoulders, then another linked with her free arm, clasping her hand. Peeking up she looked off to both sides in surprise. Rochelle had her hand while Louis's arm wrapped around her shoulders. Both kept their eyes planted firmly on the steel door while unconsciously seeking out the reassurance they wanted for themselves. Doing so they provided her with the anchor she needed to keep it together. Swallowing hard she set her gaze upon the door, forcing her rational mind to take over and prepare for battle.

It was time to be Zoey. It was time for 100% hot zombie killing action. Francis was a big boy and could take care of himself. Worrying about him would accomplish nothing and distract from her own duties. Squeezing Rochelle's hand, Zoey sighed and then groaned indignantly to lighten the mood.

"What, sweetie? Are you hurt?" Rochelle asked gently.

"No. I just can't believe Francis is _late_."

Louis snorted on her other side. "Not me. I'm not entirely sure he can read a watch." He said dryly, face finally brightening with his trademark smile.

Zoey laughed out loud, relaxing instantly. "Honestly, I'm not either."

Collins rolled his eyes, why the hell were the three taking such a dire situation so lightly? "Making jokes at a time like this?"

Zoey's face hardened. "If you don't laugh once in a while you'll lose your mind. _Trust me._" If he only knew how bad it was out there he wouldn't be so damn appalled. It wasn't war as he'd come to know it outside the door, it was a cannibalistic feeding frenzy.

Louis checked his watch quickly then returned his attention to the door, speaking more to reassure himself than reinforce the point. "The first time you have to put a bullet in a child trying to eat your face, you'll take any reasonable way to put distance between yourself and reality."

Falling junk off the shelves and pieces of plaster from the ceiling rained over them as different thuds and booms spontaneously erupted around them. Clearing his throat and readjusting his grip on his gun, Collins shifted his weight nervously.

"I'd rather take your word for it."

* * *

They were everywhere.

It had been so long since he'd been in the middle of a horde that Francis nearly forgot how easy it was to get overrun. Snarling faces, mealy mouths, and rotting flesh assaulted them from every angle. Soon, he no longer had the luxury of reload time and was relegated back to his katana, slicing handfuls of infected with single strikes.

At some point Ellis backed up to him, having dropped his rifle in favor of his machete. It soon evolved into a dance, one man stepping forward to hack at the swarm as the other slid back in a dodge to then surge forward again. Backed against the cabinets Nick and Coach took turns shooting while the other reloaded under the safety of the cover fire.

It was difficult to keep an eye on anyone but the man directly beside him; as such, it was no surprise when Francis's head jerked up as the soul crushing yelps and cries of the dog seared the air.

"BILL!" Francis boomed, trying to simultaneously focus on the monsters before him while looking around for the animal.

Ellis spotted it on the ground across the room as five infected bore down on it. With a particularly violent swipe of his blade he jumped forward through the fray.

"Over there!"

Francis followed without comment, dicing the rear threats with short strokes.

Ellis punched, kicked, and sliced his way through the creatures over Bill, finding himself standing protectively over the animal as he gained the upper hand. The numbers were slowly dwindling, but with the spill of the dog's blood, the remaining infected all focused their attention on the two men and the dog. With a roar, Francis shoved back a line of monsters, getting just enough of a window to see Nick and Coach.

"Francis!" Coach yelled and quickly threw his loaded shotgun over the counter. Francis caught the heavy weapon and grinned. Kneeling down he unloaded all ten shots into the remaining assailants like a meat grinder, dropping them into the mass grave on the floor. Discarding the gun when movement ceased, Francis spun around and set to the wounded animal that laid mostly still aside from his rising and falling chest. In moments Ellis was at his side.

"Oh God, Bill..." Francis brushed his hands over the dog, feeling for punctures or displaced bumps. When the dog merely whimpered on contact, Francis shifted up to its face, gagging at the sight. The upper half of his left ear was missing and a deep gouge stretched from the fur over his right eye through the socket and down through his cheek. The eye was for all intents and purposes, gone. "Get a first aid kit!" Ellis took off immediately.

Leaning in behind him, Nick sighed in pity and checked his watch.

"I don't want to be insensitive but-"

"Then don't!"

Ellis reappeared, the blazing red of the first aid kid in his hands. It was the last full one he had, but he couldn't say no. "Take it. Can I get anything else?"

"Water?" Francis asked. Ellis nodded and ran to fill some pitchers, thinking wryly to himself about being a professional water boy.

"Francis-" Nick tried again.

"No."

Unwilling to be cut off a third time, Nick grabbed his shoulder. "We are running out of time. If you want to help that animal, you'll put it out of its misery!"

Spinning around Francis grabbed Nick's collar and shook him. "We are not leaving a man behind!"

"It's not a man! It's just a damn dog!"

Below them, Bill stirred, wagging its tail in the presence of the familiar smells as it came back to alertness. Francis rested his hand on the dog's snout, his chest tightening. Just a dog? The _just-a-dog_ saved his life more than once, which made him more of a decent human being than most real men he'd ever met. They wanted him to execute the dog and leave it behind? No... hell no. Francis would volunteer to sacrifice himself before he lost yet another Bill.

"No one is asking you to stay. Either help, or get the hell away from me."

Nick moved back, gripping the stock of his AK. There was more than one injured animal on the floor, and if he wanted to keep from getting bitten, he needed to give them some space. Setting his jaw, he spun around and set to pack, realizing that what they left with that day would only be what he and Coach could find. The only cargo Francis and Ellis planned on leaving the house with was laying in a puddle of blood and rotting human flesh on the floor. Francis turned back to the dog.

"You just hold on, Old Man. I'm gonna fix ya."

The dog whined lightly and slipped his tongue out of his mouth to lick Francis's hand, thudding his tail weakly on the wood flooring. Ellis returned with water and a few towels from the kitchen. Francis soaked a rag and laid it on Bill's face, setting his jaw when the dog yelped.

"It's gonna be ok, Bill." Ellis said unsurely, reaching out to pet the dog's scruff. Re-soaking the rag, Francis tried to dab away some of the blood. Frowning at the sight of the deep crimson spreading in the pitcher, he rinsed the cloth again and continued.

"See that ain't so bad." Francis rumbled, "Just gotta get that ear now."

Mopping up blood on the ear and around it, he finished and tossed the rag in the pitcher then pulled out a clean dry one to soak up the moisture. He wouldn't be able to do anything for the eye, or the gouge for that matter. There was no time to stitch. He'd just have to bandage it all up and wait for Zoey's comparatively expert hands.

Soaking gauze in some disinfectant, he laid it over the long wound. The dog responded by digging his claws into the floor. Pulling off the dressing he acquired the wrap and pads out of the kit then set to work flattening the remains of the ear against the animal's head before wrapping it up. Laying another pad over the eye and cheek Francis used the rest of the roll to bind the entire head, leaving the mouth and good side of his face open. Securing the dressings with tape, he leaned back on his haunches to appraise his work. It wasn't Zoey quality, but it would do.

Looking to his right side, Francis frowned. Ellis remained leaning forward on his knees, stroking Bill's coat as the animal righted itself to a sitting position. His young face twisted in a concern that Francis honestly thought he wasn't capable of. He was conflicted. There was no way someone could have that much compassion for an animal but carelessly allow another person to walk straight into danger. Maybe Ellis wasn't as bad as he'd assumed... maybe he was just a young dumb kid that had made a mistake. Compared to the trouble of his own youth, Ellis was probably an upright and straight arrow. When they were out of the woods he'd give him a fair shake and let him tell his side of the story as to why Zoey took off. He owed him that much.

Bill began to climb to his feet, straining to stand with his bruised muscles and limbs. Francis and Ellis steadied the dog, adjusting his harness to help him stay up.

Above them, Coach approached, checking his weapon as he headed for the garage.

"Get the pup ready to move. I'm gonna go check our transport."

Stepping over mounds of dead infected, Coach took a cautious path out to the driveway, assuring there were no stragglers ready to catch him off balance. With one or two shots he dispatched a few zombies crawling up the lawn. Cynically he noticed that aside from the mass of corpses around the window and doors of the house, in general it was a beautiful day for the time of year. The sky was blue and speckled with various shapes of clouds. The temperature was fair, and there was no wind. They wasn't exactly ideal conditions to bask in, but once in a while he had to take stock and enjoy the simple things in life to keep his sanity.

"Huh." Coming to a stop halfway down the driveway he placed his hands on his hips, looking around at the empty houses. A strange sensation rippled up his legs. He grunted in confusion and shook his head. "I must have been working too hard. I swear the ground just moved."

Taking a few more steps he noticed the minor quaking again, but his confusion gave way to caution as he knelt and placed his palm flat on the pavement. The sensations prickled his fingers and spread up his arm. The ground was definitely shaking and it was getting stronger with each passing second. Bolting back upright he tried to locate the outlines of the source but couldn't see much through the string of homes, but something did move above the roofline. Make that two things.

Large things.

"Shit!" Nick boomed from inside the house. "How long has the power been out?"

"Boys." Coach said calmly as he started to back pedal up the driveway. Down at the very end of the street, what looked like a swarm was slowly filtering around the corner. "Get in the storm shelter. NOW!"

Peeling into the garage, Coach sprinted back into the house. Nick waited at the basement door and shut it behind the others after they passed to descend the stairs into the basement. At the bottom, Francis set Bill down and helped Ellis toss as much guns and ammo they could into the storm shelter that led still further below ground. Around them, the walls began to shake. The dog limped into the shelter finding strength to bark as if trying to call the others in.

Francis pulled a heavy utility cabinet over to the entrance of the shelter. As he shut the floor level storm doors, he pulled the cabinet over on top of them, essentially locking them in from the outside. It would be heavy as hell to move when the siege passed... if it wasn't moved by outside forces. In the back of the concrete room, all four men stood shoulder to shoulder, wielding their weapons. Hearts raced, and chests heaved as the world quaked out of control. All 8 eight eyes were fixated and dilated on the pin light streams that filtered through the tiniest of cracks in the shelter doors.

Movement outside blocked out all light for a second then cleared away, followed by more as several shadows ran past. Deep inhuman roars pounded their eardrums through the house, basement, and earth around them. The titans had arrived. The snapping of 2x8s and other house materials above was nearly deafening, easily likened to being a beneath a tornado.

Francis clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, steadying his resolve. If the world was going to come down around him, he wouldn't go without putting up a fight. The first vampire face that broke through those doors would be reduced to mush with his new shotty. Looking side to side at his companions, he saw the same dead realizations in their eyes. Nick looked like the man he remembered, lifeless eyes and a blank face. Ellis showed a cold rage a guy his age shouldn't know, and Coach... Coach had the most menacing look he'd ever seen on a man. Turning to the door again, he shifted his weight nervously.

Knowing you were probably going to die wasn't half as bad as the anticipation of waiting for it to happen.

* * *

There was really no way to aim infected, herding cats was time better spent. They were less than intelligent and had no recognizable communication skills. While in her opinion that didn't make them much worse than the stock they spawned from, they were still nearly impossible to work with and tended to forget what they were doing in the middle of doing it.

She'd been pleasantly surprised by the tenacity and resilience of the 8 test subjects, especially the pale female. When the others had frozen in apprehension she'd assessed the predators and an escape route. Plus she was the only one of the 8 that had shown any signs of shifting while facing the imperfect evolved infected a day earlier in the warehouse.

Intriguing indeed.

Subject qualities aside, the most surprising factor of all was that none of them had yet perished.

Boring.

* * *

Thirty minutes had past. Crashing continued outside the shelter doors for a short while longer until the loud bang of something hitting the cabinet ended all visible movement. Letting out a breath and pent up tension, Nick slid down the wall to the cold cement floor. The structure around them still rumbled, but it was waning.

Coach sighed and slid down as well. "This here- this is bullshit! All I wanted to do was teach algebra and coach some high school football. I didn't sign up for this... this... _bullshit_!"

"They won't eat us. We are either going to suffocate, be crushed, or starve to death because we simply can't get out." Nick replied sourly and paused. "Actually, I'll just agree with the first thing you said."

"What do we do now?" Ellis asked quietly, his fountain of energy running dry.

"We get out and pick them up." Francis said simply, picking through the pile of ammo and arming himself to the teeth.

"Right. We'll just walk out of here and ride our bikes... oh wait, that's right, there's a fucking house laying on top of our bikes!" Nick cried in exasperation.

"Unbunch your panties, would ya?", Francis growled, "Two are in the street and the truck is still at the lab!"

Nick continued on his tangent regardless. "Let's just face it, when we have a plan, we should expect it to fail and stop being so damn surprised all the time. Besides, you moron, the truck is almost out of gas!"

"Hadn't loaded the gas, should still be on the side of the garage." He said plainly, intentionally ignoring the growing hysterics on the floor. Ellis was the next to chime in, removing his hat to anxiously run his hands through his hair.

"You don't actually think we have a shot? Those are ALL special infected, man, half of which we may have never even seen before! Stronger, maybe even new powers!"

Francis's lip twitched. "_They_ are waiting for me."

"Yes! To eat you! You go out there and you will die!"

Francis lost his temper. "I ain't you, _hayseed_! I don't make people think we're _team_ and _leave'm_ to wander off and get hurt!"

His words echoed off the concrete walls, slapping the young man into silence. Throat dry, Ellis swallowed a couple times before he found the courage to speak again. Bill limped over to him, sitting back on his haunches to watch him with his good eye. Ellis's brow furrowed in remorse as he pet the dog.

"It... it wasn't like that."

"_Enlighten_ me on how it was then." Francis strapped on the weapon, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood impatiently staring him down. From the floor Ellis couldn't help but notice how damn big the man was. He seemed to tower ten feet tall. Sighing, he averted his eyes and spoke.

"I was mad and I got stupid. All my life I got the short stick, now world's over and nothin's changed..." Ellis trailed off in thought. _I lost mom and dad. Annie didn't like me back. We were poor. I couldn't afford to take a girl to dances. I couldn't afford to go to college. Keith was the confident one. Grandma died. Keith died. I lost my shop.  
_

"And?" Francis snapped in irritation. Yet again, he was a damn therapist. Coach and Nick leaned forward, listening intently as Ellis continued.

"Zoey was wrong, I didn't expect her to be my girl. I've lost everything so I just wanted something to hold onto- something good in all of this. When I saw her that first time, I thought I found someone, _something_ good all my own. I wanted her to be what I needed without consideration toward who she really is. I let us both down. It hurts..."

There was a long pause when he finished, then Francis took in a deep breath and squatted before Ellis.

"Suck it up." He clipped then clapped him on the arm. "I know all about short sticks-"

"I bet you do." Nick interjected reflexively, then grunted when a large fist cracked him in the shoulder. Ellis chuckled, smiling briefly.

"I physically hate you." Francis snipped in warning, then turned back to the young man. "The short sticks never stop coming, and you just gotta keep taking them."

Ellis's nose scrunched up. "If this is supposed to be encouraging, you're failing miserably."

"Encouraging?" Francis snorted. "Do I look like a cheerleader? I'm tellin you the truth so you ain't surprised anymore. Life sucks for assholes like us. No money. Few friends. Even less women."

"On the other hand, if you're trying to make me suicidal, you're doing a great job." Ellis groaned, and Francis scowled indignantly.

"But it's not all short sticks. You learn to be tough and how to fight- it's why you're still alive now."

"I'd rather have the money and girls."

"No you don't."

"Why not?"

"Cause those asshats are all _dead_." Francis scoffed then stood. "And I for one plan on staying _not dead_ a while longer, so you gonna take another short stick and help me save some people or not?"

"You _really_ suck at this." Ellis laughed sourly, betraying his moping frown.

"I _really_ don't care."

Ellis pushed his way up off the floor and stretched in resignation before following Francis over to the storm doors to assess the damage. "Alright, man. Let's get this over with."

Across the room Nick sat in a bit of a daze watching them. It had only taken one day to settle back into complacency. He had nearly convinced himself that it was all over and that they could just live their days out in that neighborhood while the magical power source gave them clean water and warm houses. It was indeed an asinine thought to ever entertain.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" Coach commented, with more mirth than Nick could appreciate at the moment.

"Which part?"

"Getting old."

Nick paused in shock then his face lit up bright red. "I AM NOT OLD."

"Well, the way you're letting the young and able do all the work..." Coach hinted, raising an eyebrow, and nudging Nick's side.

In a flash, Nick jumped up to his feet and stormed over to the door. "Out of my way, ladies!"

Coach chuckled and shook his head, but remained on the floor. "Well my ass _is_ old and I need to save my energy." Bill limped over and sat by Coach and if he didn't know any better the man would have sworn he saw a knowing look in the dog's eyes.

The trio picked at the door and argued for a good twenty minutes until Francis lost his patience, swiped Ellis's sniper rifle, and blew the hinges off the shelter doors with several rounds of ear piercing shots. Expecting comments and complaints about his methods he raised an eyebrow to two sets of wide stares.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" Nick asked flatly. Ellis merely blinked.

"Why do people keep asking me that?" Francis wondered aloud, kicking the remains of the doors out of place. They fell into the shelter along with the still body of some sort of strange infected with bone spikes protruding from its back.

"Ugly sucker." Ellis finally commented, poking the corpse with the barrel of his rife to ensure it was actually dead.

Nick kicked it out of the way and peered out the entrance of the shelter through the crack left by the toppled shelving unit, while Francis tossed the sheet metal doors aside. He half expect spit, claws or a long vine tongue to accost him. There was nothing. Yet. Looking down he shook his head. "Nothing I can see."

"The shelf?"

Nick pressed firm against it, then tried with all his strength to lift it. "Not budging."

Francis crawled up and tried his best as well, it moved an inch then fell back into place. "Something's on top of it."

"Probably the whole damn house." Nick grumbled.

"Well let's get up there and lift. If Francis can move it a bit, I bet all three of us won't have a problem." Ellis suggested. The three men tried with all their might but could only lift it far enough for one man to squeeze through, but two were not strong enough to hold it alone. Cursing and groaning, they dropped the shelf back into place

"We need to get someone out there to see what the problem is." Coach pointed out, standing. "That means you Ellis. You're the smallest."

"Hey now! Don't go announcing it to the world... I've been working out." He laughed awkwardly. Coach patted him on the back with a chuckle as he passed by to take his place in the lifting formation.

Francis grinned. "Well, get your viney ass out there. On the count of three. One, two, _three!_" Nick and Francis grunted in surprise as the difference Coach made in the lifting. "What the hell do you eat, old man?!" Francis gaped as Ellis tossed a couple weapons and the chainsaw out, then scurried through the hole. When they let the shelf down with a thud, Coach sat on the stairs and let out a good natured laugh.

"First Team All American Defensive Tackle with squat and press records for my collegiate division. 20 years ago, but I still push the weights around once in a while."

"Weights or train cars?" Francis snorted.

Nick tried to join the conversation, but he was in a fit of pain. That last one practically tore his back in half and he could feel the spasms of his angered muscles. Francis and Coach were both massively taller and thicker, well, used to be anyway.

"You're no slouch yourself, Francis."

"Eh, I'd be less of a pansy ass if I was at my fighting weight..."

Nick raised an eyebrow. Was that modesty coming from Francis? Nick smirked evilly to himself. It was practically like having two of Ellis. He wiped his smile off his face quickly, a giant Ellis with a lifetime of experience in beating the living hell out of people for money. With chuckle he realized he should probably keep his usual comments to himself. The guy had already screwed up his face twice in the last 24 hours. He didn't want to know where he'd punch if both his cheeks were already black and blue.

"Uh, guys? Is now the best time?" Ellis said nervously through the hole. Nick and Coach shared a brief stare before erupting in laughter.

"Ok, ok." Nick replied in his best Ellis impersonation.

"Heh. Not funny. Seriously. Guys?"

Francis just smirked. He had no idea what was going on. "What do you see, cowpoke?"

"Uh. A support beam fell crossways on the cabinet. I should be able to cut it. The house is really jacked up. There're holes in the ceiling. I can see the sky in some places. A lot of structural materials have fallen through, but I think we can climb out. We gotta move fast though, If any more walls come down, I won't be able to get you out."

"Ellis, that chainsaw is loud." Coach warned. There was a short silence as Ellis thought.

"I don't have a choice. I won't leave y'all behind. You're not... you're not my _live bait_." He replied very solemnly. No one else knew what the hell he was talking about, but the tone of his voice kept them from asking questions.

"Do it _fast_." Nick said anxiously, rare concern showing through.

"Ok." Ellis said with all the false confidence he could muster. Taking a deep breath he started the engine and began to plow through the heavy 2x8. Francis had picked up his pistols and aimed them out the crack. A minute passed with the loud buzzing of the saw. There was no movement outside except for the cloud of falling dust.

"Almost th-" Ellis was cut off mid word and the chainsaw clattered to the ground, cutting the engine. Bill began barking and snarling.

"Ellis!" Francis roared, he couldn't see a thing. All eyes were wide as saucers when they heard the choking and sputtering. "Hayseed, I can't see you!"

Coach frowned deeply and jumped to his feet. "Get out the way!" He yelled and ran to the back of the cellar.

"What are you doing?! Push!" Nick screamed.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!"

Nick and Francis quickly cleared the way from the entrance. Taking a quick 3 point stance, Coach launched himself forward with a speed and intensity rivaling any charger. He impacted the flat side of the shelving unit, sending it a good two feet higher than they did on a dead lift. Under the strain the remaining half inch of uncut 2x8 snapped and the beam halves still connected to the house frame fell to the sides. The shelf fell back over the entrance, violently throwing Coach back down the short flight of stairs, but Nick and Francis knew the damage had been done.

Surging back up the stars with weapons in hand Nick and Francis hit and threw the shelving unit aside, urgently scanning the room for Ellis. A bit of debris hit Nick in the face and he looked up. Dangling about ten feet up from a smokers tongue was Ellis. His body was prone as the smoker thrashed at him. Next to the smoker was another infected breathing some sort of putrid smelling gas in his face, bits of it wafted down. When Nick and Francis breathed it in, they coughed, their lungs burning from just the scent.

Without hesitation they both raised their weapons and quickly fired away. The smoker and the breather both exploded into clouds of noxious gases. Ellis fell limp to the ground with a thud as the other two tried their best to soften the impact. Frantically, they straightened him out and pulled off the thick viney tongue, coughing as the gas dissipated.

"Ellis!" Nick yelled as he and Francis did their best to dislodge the tongue, fighting off the wooziness of whatever it was they partially inhaled. Francis leaned over and laid his ear on Ellis's pale nose and mouth.

"Not breathing."

Nick felt the young man's rapidly bruising neck. "Has a pulse but it's fading."

Looking around nervously Francis remembered something that had once been done to wake him from a constricting. "Bill!"

"What?!"

Francis pulled back and slapped Ellis as hard as he could. The crack was unbelievably loud, but the intended effect was immediate. The younger man coughed and heaved as he rolled over onto his side, clutching his cheek. Thankfully he'd been constricted so tightly he hadn't breathed much, if any of the gas in.

"SHIT!" Ellis rasped, and Nick fell back on his butt in relief. "STOP SLAPPING ME!"

"Now get up." Francis said quickly then jumped to his feet.

"Do you ever say _anything_ comforting?" Ellis snapped at his retreating form then relaxed, addressing Nick brightly. "I did it?"

"Mostly." Nick smiled.

Francis ran down into the cellar to find Coach sitting on the bottom stair, clutching his arm. "Boy alright?" He asked quietly.

"Yes, but you aint, huh?"

"No. Can't feel my arm."

Running a hand over his head, Francis sat next to coach and took a visual look. It wasn't broken, however the signs of dislocation were hard to miss. Wasn't the first one he'd ever seen... or put back in place. Hospitals were rarely an option in his old line of work. Picking up the limp limb by the wrist he gave Coach one apologetic look.

"This is going to hurt like hell."

"Won't be the first time."

* * *

Inch by miserable inch, the monolithic steel door creaked open. It took the combined efforts of all four inhabitants of the vault. After debating for a good half hour they agreed to leave, knowing that once the door was open, it wouldn't shut again. With a 6 inch opening, Zoey peered out to look for movement. So far, nothing. Nodding to the others they pushed it open enough to slip out sideways. Collins led the way followed by Zoey, Rochelle, then Louis who had the laptops strapped to his back.

The halls were dark, lit only by the dimming emergency floodlights. Both Louis and Zoey had flashbacks to their harrowing night in Mercy Hospital, this time there would be no more surprises or accidents. They knew with certainty that even though nothing was jumping out at them, there were monsters hiding in the dark.

Special infected were not like their common relatives, they were intelligent. They had seen hunters track a group for days waiting for the perfect moment someone was off on their own to strike. Smokers would allow the entire group pass by their hiding spot before snagging one last person before he or she could turn a corner. Spitters would wait for others to attack before revealing themselves. This meant that the mindless eating machine around them ware no longer mindless. It was direct and calculated.

The only infected that couldn't mask its excitement was-

"Is that laughing?" Collins asked warily, looking back.

"Back up! Back up!" Rochelle hissed. She knew once one attacked, they all attacked. Collins didn't move fast enough. Rochelle sprung forward, knocking Collins out of the way and the half size infected latched on to whatever was within reach. She cried out as it pulled her hair with one hand, scratched her head with the other, and dug it's back claws into her shoulders.

Zoey raised her rifle, but there was no clear shot without hitting Rochelle. "I can't shoot it!"

"Get it off!" Rochelle wailed. Louis looked around, pulled a fire extinguisher off the wall and smashed the Jockey loose of her head. Once it was off, Zoey blasted it into oblivion. Rochelle fell against the wall, gingerly touching the deep lacerations on the side of her face.

"This whole damn time, I've been able to keep them off my face. Oh well."

"Oh it's nothing, Ro. It'll heal right up." Louis encouraged, pulling the astringent and some cleaning cloths out of his med kit. Rochelle smiled in appreciation, but stopped when the pain radiated through her face on contact.

Collins made it back to his feet with wild eyed confusion. Zoey knelt watching the forward door, rifle ready for a follow up attack while Louis patched up Rochelle. "Derek, make yourself useful and watch the rear." She ordered, squeezing off another few shots at eyes peering back at her in the dark.

"I'll take point from here on." Louis said with a tick of irritation. He should have known to go first. Collins had probably never seen specials outside the tubes. "Shoot first, ask questions later. There are no civilians to worry about."

"Ok."

Zoey looked back for a moment. "You ok, Rochelle?"

"Oh yeah, jockey just uglied me up a bit. Why wasn't there a follow up?"

"Good question."

Once they were all back on their feet they continued on. Louis led the way down the hall and back out over the scaffolding above the laboratory pit. Moving slowly but purposely all four sets of eyes scanned repeatedly for movement. Half way across the catwalk, Louis froze.

Did he hear snorting? "No... no, no..."

Two glowing yellow eyes appeared in the doorway at the end of the walk and the snorts were drowned out by what sounded like a high pitched cow moan. The charger from earlier had not forgotten them.

"Charger! Jump!" Louis yelled. All four climbed over the guard rail. Zoey was just a bit too slow. Just as she was lifting her back leg over the railing the charger sped past and clipped her, sending her flying off the railing to lower level. She landed with a boom on her back 15 feet below on a desk, letting out a pained yell. Wheezing, she rolled into a fetal position, eyes bulging open.

"ZOEY!" Rochelle and Louis echoed, hanging down from the catwalk, dropping to roll on the floor, and pop back up. Collins followed suit, keeping an eye on the door the charger slipped into at the end of its run. Running to the others he raised his rifle at the ready and waited.

Jockey and Charger. He would not forget them or their tells and be fooled again, unfortunately, he knew there was a whole menagerie of infected he hadn't yet encountered.

Tears of pain streamed out of the corners of Zoey's eyes as she gasped for air like an asthmatic. "Pull the air in, sweetie!" Rochelle encouraged, rubbing her back.

"Can you feel your feet?" Louis demanded, doing a visual check for any displaced bumps on her body. That was one hell of a fall, the only thing that may have saved her was her small size and the fact that she hit a cheaply made desk that collapsed and broke the impact instead of the concrete floor.

Zoey nodded vigorously, gripping Rochelle's arms as the other woman tried to help her sit up. Louis began to gently squeeze her limbs, working from the bottom up. "Anything hurt more than it should?"

"Everything... but...pride the most..." She rasped with a laugh. Louis sighed in relief and helped her off the desk to her wobbly feet.

"I think Francis's dumb luck is wearing off on you."

Zoey nodded, smiling slyly to herself.

One shot out Collins's rifle echoed through the room; then by the stairs the charger fell into a heap. All turned to Collins. Louis crossed his arms and smiled. "You learn fast. I think I'll keep you around after all."

Collins acknowledged him curtly and took to watching the catwalk for more movement.

Louis and Rochelle steadied Zoey until she placed one hand on the desk to try and stand on her own power. Narrowing her eyes she held her breathing still and focused on her hand.

Vibration.

"Oh God! No! Not fair! I call bullshit!"

"What, sweetie?"

Zoey grabbed one each of Louis's and Rochelle's hands and placed them on the surface of the desk. They quickly understood as it intensified and the light fixtures began to sway and creak. Collins swallowed hard, looking to his companions for more information.

"That's why nothing followed up the Jockey or the Charger." Louis reasoned, looking around the pit for a place to stand their ground. In one corner was a steel counter built under the catwalk.

"We're fish in a barrel!" Rochelle hissed.

"What is it?" Collins asked.

"There's still a tank here, and it's heading our way."

"One of those big damn things?"

"Ro, over there, help Zoey please." Louis pointed then looked back to Collins. "If it's a common tank like we're used to we stand a chance. If it's one of those super tanks from the lab... we're just fucked. Understand?"

"I don't want to." Collins said with a grimace, checking over his spare clips. Most of them had been left in the computer room when the power went out. "How many bullets does this thing take?"

"At least three clips a person. More if Zoey can't shoot."

"Move boys!" Rochelle barked. Collins and Louis jogged over to the makeshift shelter.

The floor began to shake and the echo of an angry roar bounced off the concrete walls. Collins pulled out his world phone and dialed. "Hello Sir, this is Collins, the power has failed and the monsters are loose. Call the airstrike. Thank you sir, it was an honor serving with you as well. If I make it out, you'll hear from me. Godspeed." No one had to ask what that meant. The other three remained silent preparing for the encounter. "Let's hope the cavalry is on the way."

Zoey frowned, clutching her rifle. "They are. I know they are."

Their apprehension dissolved when the first piece of flying concrete hit the floor before them. Raising their weapons they opened fire on at the first glimpse of the rippling pink flesh.

* * *

They picked up the gas cans they were able to scavenge from the wreckage then hopped on the remaining bikes in the street. Francis held Bill on the bike as they sped to the lab, Ellis riding behind him. Ellis and Nick picked off infected with pistols as they went. Coach just did what he could to hold onto Nick with his immobile arm. After Francis popped it back into the socket, he had wished he had no longer felt anything. The un-pinched nerves had come alive with an ocean of pain.

Pulling up to the truck, Francis and Ellis dismounted and took off into the building. Nick and Coach frantically loaded the truck and filled the gas tank with as much as they had in the spare containers. Jumping in the vehicle Coach started the engine. 3/4 tank.

"Yeah, baby!"

Nick loaded Bill into the trunk of the SUV then closed the door just in time to slap a clip into place and open fire on incoming infected. Coach jumped out of the truck an joined Nick at the rear.

"Bring it, ugly bastards!"

* * *

It was not going well.

Louis and Zoey emptied their weapons the fastest and were down to their pistols. Collins and Rochelle still fired away, but the common tank was not slowing as it chased them around the room. Unable to duck away fast enough as the tank flung furniture around the room, Louis was hit by flying debris and the latches on his prosthetic snapped. Righting himself he leaned on a counter and continued firing with his pistols.

Zoey's injuries were soon sniffed out by the tank, and it fixated on her. Limping away, she cried out when a meaty arm knocked her into a corner. After impact she scurried back against the wall and protectively covered her head, awaiting the pummeling amidst the gunfire and rage of the tank.

Nothing came.

She thought maybe she'd died and the hit was too fast to feel it. Pulling her arms down slowly she caught sight of the pink behemoth and her mouth fell open in disbelief.

Yep, she was dead. She had to be, because what she was seeing was insanity bordering on suicide.

* * *

Through the eyes of her hidden cameras she watched the pawns gather for the final test. From that pool she would pick her valued subjects.

If she could, she would have smiled.

If she could, she would have danced.

They ran like rats through her maze towards the cheese at the final room without so much as a prompt or a nudge. If she had been a filthy meatbag she would have committed some atrocious celebratory display.

Yet, she wasn't human, and they weren't rats. She was an immortal purveyor of science. They were humans; thus they would be unmotivated by cheese.

That's why the end of her mazes had cake.

* * *

Francis and Ellis stumbled into the room, guns blazing. Just as they arrived, the tank had decided to go after less mobile treats. They weren't going to drop it in time.

Strapping on his weapon Francis pulled out his katana. He remembered Nick's story about the Jockey riding a tank to death and looked to Ellis. "On the back of the neck, right?"

Doing a double take, Ellis nearly choked on his words. "Don't be stupid! You're not a cowboy!" While it was fun to joke about at the time, Ellis had never actually wanted to ride a tank like a bull.

Chuckling grimly, Francis looked to Ellis and grinned. "Thing is, _I am_."

"What? Stupid? Cause I fully believe that you're stupid!"

After getting a read on the motion of the tank, he gripped the blade like a pole-vaulter and ran down the side of the catwalk to launch himself over the edge. Landing on the hump of the tank blade first, the beast lurched forward. The sword pierced through the back of its neck into its chest and he used the handle of the katana to hold on for dear life. He tried to remember everything with his mind and body that Verne had taught him as kid. Relax, move with the animal, and once you got tossed, get the hell out of the way. Unfortunately there would be no clowns to get the beast's attention this time, and a tank was quite a bit bigger and angrier than a steer or a mustang.

Understandably, he regretted his decision instantly.

"Yep! This was stupid!"

Zoey stood, leaning heavily on a desk as she tried to process exactly what she was seeing. It had to be a dream, or she had to be dead and it was hell. Francis was on the tank, gripping fiercely to the handle of a katana which was buried in it up to the hilt. The creature thrashed around, futilely trying to dislodge him from his back. Mouth still hanging open in shock, Zoey couldn't bring herself to move when the tank focused again on her.

Ellis's stomach sunk when the tank changed direction. It would kill as much at it could before it fell, even if it meant ignoring the monkey on its back. Flying down the stairs, he briefly considered firing his rifle, but changed his mind when he realized he couldn't drop it with one shot and there was no time to waste.

Francis hauled himself up higher on the beast and unstrapped the new combat shotgun he'd acquired from the truck. Holding on with his legs, he began to unload rounds into the back of its head, but piercing the thickened skull was not an easy task with a scatter weapon. They needed something designed to pierce armor.

Something like that military grade sniper rifle hanging uselessly on Ellis's back.

Determined, the tank pushed forward towards Zoey. Raising a massive arm, it made to swing when a flash of yellow and blue tackled his target out of his path and it struck the floor with a thundering crack.

Zoey's body exploded in pain as she hit the floor, Ellis's weight adding to her impact. They skid to a stop against another desk. Ellis quickly shoved her in the cubby beneath the wood structure and grinned over his shoulder as he took off to keep the tank's attention off of her and the others.

"Now who's the bait?!"

"Idiot..." Zoey painfully wheezed and brought herself out from under the desk when the glint of steel caught her eye. Ellis had lost hold of his rifle when he'd tackled her and it laid mere feet away from her. With all her strength she crawled over to the high powered weapon, and laid prone beside it. Adjusting herself, she took aim from the floor, just like she had with her dad at a shooting range, but she was shaking too much from fear to fire. "Damnit! Stop it!" She hissed at her hands, slapping the floor to try and get them to obey. "I need you to work!"

That's when she heard it, the voice she'd been missing for so long, reaching out from the past.

* * *

_She'd been watching the news all day from her dorm about the stand down between the police department and a group of criminals holding an officer hostage. Not just any officer, her officer. As soon as the situation had been resolved and gone off air, she sprinted out to the parking lot and jumped in her car, breaking all posted speed limits to get home._

_The driveway was full of squad cars and media vans, so she parked in the lawn, running over her mother's planters. Throwing the door open she didn't even bother shutting the car off before sprinting into the house past other officers and reporters. Her mother was being interviewed on camera, but Zoey didn't care, she stepped in front of the camera. _

_"Where is he?!"_

_"Zoey? Why aren't you at school?" _

_"Where's Dad!" _

_"Sweetheart, please wait-"_

_"WHERE IS HE!?" She roared, silencing the room. _

_"Excuse me, Miss, we're in the middle of an interview-"_

_"SHUT UP! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"_

_Rustling at the front door caught their attention as her father walked in, beaten and tired, less than happy about the flurry of activity in his home. His voice boomed with authority. "You heard my girl, get out of here!"_

_"Dad!" Zoey flew across the room into her father's arms, several flashes went off, but her father quickly escorted her up away to the second level, slamming the door when they entered her room. She refused to let go as they sat on her bed, bawling into his sweat and blood stained shirt. Stroking her back, he sighed and kissed the top of her head, saying anything to comfort her._

_"I'm ok, I promise."_

_"I was- I was so scared! They showed you- they showed you tied upon TV! I thought they were going to kill you!"_

_"I thought so too."_

_Zoey pulled back and sat up, wiping her eyes. "Why weren't you scared?"_

_He furrowed his brow, moisture welling on his eyelids. "Pumpkin, I was terrified. Don't think for a second I don't have a healthy dose of fear in me every morning I walk out that door. Fear keeps you grounded, and keeps you alive. I hold onto that fear and own it because it's the only thing that keeps me coming home to you and your mother every night."_

_"You were so calm. I was so scared I couldn't even go to class today, how did you keep it together?"_

_He smiled and wiped an ever present lock away from her eyes. "I got mad."_

_"Mad?"_

_"Yes. I was mad they were threatening to keep me from seeing you ever again." _

_Zoey frowned heavily and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Please don't ever get held hostage again. I can't... I can't live without you."_

_The statement hit him like a truck. In his line of work, it was a common occurrence for the Chaplain to show up at the house before officers ever reached retirement age. He couldn't tell her that, but one day she'd have to face life on her own and he pledged in his heart that she would be a ready as he could make her. _

_"Zoey?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Promise me something."_

_"What?"_

_"If you ever get in a situation where you're so scared you can't even think- where your body doesn't want to work and your life depends on it- get mad. Get furious. Understand?"_

_She didn't, but she nodded anyway. After all, when would she ever end up in a life or death situation?_

* * *

Out of rounds, Francis dropped the shotgun and took to twisting the blade in the beast. It howled in pain and with one last grand effort finally managed to dislodge him. He tumbled across the floor to a stop with a painful impact against the wall. His breath left his mouth with puff and a grunt. He had earned the tank's full vengeance for taking the unwelcome ride, and he looked up with frozen resignation, unable to breathe while the beast raised its massive meaty fists in the air.

Something audibly clicked behind his eyes and the world slowed.

Frozen in time, rapid fire sniper rounds spiraled in thick air, leaving waves of ignited oxygen as they impacted into dense bone, one by one, finally breaking through the skull and exploding forward in a rain of brain matter, blood, and bone. Against the wall, Francis's eyes were fixed open in awe at the descending red cloud.

Wincing, he raised his hands to his suddenly aching chest as echoes of rifle rounds ricocheted off the walls with deafening concussion until the rifle in Zoey's arms clicked empty. Exhausted, he watched as she let the heavy rifle fall to its side, and the beast finally slumped over dead at his feet. Eyeing the tank again, then shifting his focus beyond, he settled on the slight woman. Zoey leaned heavily on her elbows, then laid face down on the floor, going limp.

"No..."

White hot lances of pain shot from his heart out through his limbs and up through his head. Chest heaving, he clutched tighter at his skin, his thundering heart rate rapidly increasing still. He looked back and forth from the beast to Zoey, fury growing exponentially. Words choked in his throat, but he still snarled in pain. Pushing up off the wall, he stumbled and fell to his knees again. Somewhere above him, Ellis's voice echoed, but he ignored it, shoving the hands away when they gripped his arms to pull him back up. More voices sounded further off, but they were jumbled and faded away beneath the blood picking up in intensity as it pumped through his head, pounding in his ears.

The adrenaline wouldn't abate. The danger was over, but adrenal panic was rising. Forcing his head up again, he saw with reddening vision as Louis and Rochelle approached Zoey, rolling the injured girl onto her back.

All he saw was the girl, prone... hurt... unmoving.

A flourish of anger rose out of the pit of his stomach and his vision went red.

* * *

Zoey gasped, relieved as two worried faces hovered above her. She couldn't hold back her grin. "All hail the mighty tank-slayer!"

Louis furrowed his brow. "You alright?"

"I'm ok. My back is jacked up, I'm tired, I'm pissed off- but I'm going to be fine." She explained, leaning into the help Louis and Rochelle afforded her, too exhausted and pain riddled to move on her own just yet. The best part was, she wasn't shaking anymore. Smiling in relief she closed her eyes, believing herself for once. "I'm really going to be fine."

"Francis! Can you hear me, man?" Ellis asked across the room, uncertainty in his voice as he tried to stir Francis from the ground, but his eyes were fixed widely open and forward.

Zoey's eyes flew open as a wave of something- she couldn't explain it- put her little hairs on end. She forced her physical pain on the back burner and sat forward quickly to assess the source.

His eyes.

Holy fuck.

His eyes.

Burning yellow embers seared into her. On his knees, he clutched at his chest while his neck and shoulders twitched and bunched. Veins throbbed on his forehead and neck, and down the sides of his arms. Muscles shuddered and seized, fluttering under a torrent of adrenaline. Zoey swallowed hard, convinced her eyes were betraying her.

Was he... was he bulking?

"Francis?" Louis asked anxiously from behind her as both he and Rochelle climbed to their feet, the latter supporting the former.

They saw it too.

"Francis?" Ellis asked again, reaching his hand out once more, but before he made contact, a steel beam of an arm shot up and sent him flying back into the wall, knocking the air out of him. Bringing his fist back down Francis slammed it impossibly hard into the concrete, sending out a web of cracks.

"What... the hell..." Rochelle said tentatively, rising to her feet.

"Zoey." Louis whispered urgently, a sick feeling knotting his stomach. "This... isn't good. We should go."

"Why?"

"I- I think he's turning!"

"What? He is...not... oh crap." Zoey's eyes flashed in surprise, then darkened when the pieces fell into place. "Either way we're _not_ leaving him."

"Don't know if you realize this, but turning is a one way street!" Louis argued, but Zoey ignored him.

Taking a deep breath, she commanded her abused muscles to move, never blinking as she stumbled up to her feet. Grabbing her side, she limped forward, ignoring the protests behind her. Waves of anger and confusion hit her, increasing in strength as she approached. It was not a sensation she perceived with her mind, but could feel with her body, as if it were something she'd experienced before. Bits of memory stung her mind like a swarm of bees, failing to form any sort of string, but the feeling of familiarity was all she needed.

"Zoey this is suicide!" Rochelle hissed, but Zoey waved her off and approached him, fixated on the embers. With each labored step, he seemed to calm in a sort of confusion, but his face was distant and saw right through her. He recognized her as a person, but didn't know who it was that stood before him.

Panic seeded in Louis's stomach with each step she took. "Don't throw your life-"

A hand rested on Louis's shoulder and he spun around to face Collins, who wore a distant expression as he watched the scene. He'd seen it before in the warehouse when Zoey's eyes had glowed red and the frightening silver color had graced her skin. Louis narrowed his eyes at the fed until the man spoke under his breath.

"She _knows_."

"Knows what!? If he's turning, he's going to kill her! He'll kill all of us!" Louis seethed in a whisper.

"This same thing happened to her last night." Collins explained quietly and pointed. "He brought her back."

Louis paled. "He... she- what?"

"Watch."

"Francis." Zoey said lowly, coming to a stop right before him. A snarl twisted his face in defiance and he gave the concrete another short slam in warning like a cornered animal. A shot of anger swirled in her stomach, drowning out the fear driven survival instincts that were keeping her at a safe distance. The edges of her vision tinged red and she growled at him in warning.

"Wake. Up. We don't have time for you to lose it!"

Rearing up back on his knees, Francis clenched his fists at his sides, posturing his shuddering bulk with threat. Leaning forward into his space, she snapped back.

"_Wake up_!"

"Oh God! Zoey! Get out-" Louis panicked, breaking away from Collins and Rochelle. Whipping her head back, Zoey stood tall, and snarled freezing him in place.

"Stay there!"

Louis didn't hear the words coming out of her mouth, all he could see were her glowing red eyes. Collins was right, she was different.

Before he could respond a terrible thunder echoed beneath the floors. One by one the lights flickered back to life around them, but there was no hum from the generators.

"Derek is there another level?!" Louis yelled, broken free of the sight before him, he stare at the rumbling floor in surprise.

"No!"

The floor began to shake and Louis lost his balance, falling back into Rochelle. Returning his frightened stare to Zoey, he watched as she assessed the situation, looking at Francis then back at the trembling floors. Monitors around the lab blinked back to life with strange graphics, a fragmented orange circle at the middle with the words _Aperture Laboratories_ to the right.

"Oh no." He whispered, "Oh no... no, no, no..."

"What-" Rochelle began but was cut off by a loud, computerized female voice over the intercom system.

"_Human test subjects, for your safety while restructuring begins, please return to your relaxation chambers."_

Zoey didn't need to know more than that. Pointing at Louis, she shrieked at an inhuman octave. "RUN!"

"What the hell is going on!" Rochelle's voice cut the air as Derek ran over to help Ellis up from his daze against the wall.

"This is it!" Louis yelled with a mix of fascination and panic, "This is the lost _Aperture Labs _site!"

"What does that mean?" Rochelle demanded, throwing Louis's arm over her shoulder.

"Pretty damn sure it means we need to get the hell out of here!" Ellis choked, still trying to pull air into his aching lungs with what had to be at least a few broken ribs. Collins nodded, instinctually heading for the stairs, pulling Ellis along. A loud crack cut the air as the concrete floor began to buckle at the center. Not wasting any more time, Rochelle pushed Louis toward the stairs, forcing him to hobble past Francis and Zoey.

"Wait!" He complained, trying to wrench himself free. "Zoey! Francis!"

"GO!" Zoey snapped. The very structure of the facility began to change as individual wall panels came to life all around them. Frowning in determination, Rochelle dragged Louis up the stairs and out of sight.

A confused snort brought Zoey's attention back to Francis while he craned his head around, trying to comprehend the changing environment. Twisting to face him, something pinched in her back and she cried out, falling to her knees, the red vanishing from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, in too much pain to care about the snarling beast before her or the rapidly growing hole at the center of the room.

"My back... oh- God- this hurts." She whispered then looked up with her very last plea. "Please Francis, wake up. We gotta get out of here!" Bits of plaster and building materials began to fall from the ceiling, and she covered her head as it hit her. Angling her head up, she spun on the ground and planted a foot in the center of his chest then yelled. "FRANCIS! WAKE UP YOU SHITBRICK!"

He growled again, barely phased by the impact. Face widening in confusion, recognition sent a spike of pain through his head. Twitching he reeled back, bringing his hands up to his temples. Zoey began to pull herself up beneath shots of pain while the thing that was Francis fell to its back, writhing and snarling, seemingly deflating of the frightening bulk before her eyes. When it ended he lay on his back, gasping for air and groaning. Stumbling over to his arm, she grasped it and pulled with all her might, caught off guard by the absurdly high temperature of his skin and the steel density of the limb, but there was no time to waste.

"I'll give you credit! You were right! It's a shitty day!"

"Zoey?" The voice was familiar but foreign, it had the hints of a deeper timbered echo to it. His face had mostly returned to normal, but his irises still glowed a golden yellow. "I... I feel weird."

"You look weird!" She laughed painfully, deciding to withhold any further comments until they were safe. "Glad you're still in there though!"

"In where? What the hell happened? Why's the roof caving in?" One last resounding crack, like a shifting glacier, brought Francis's attention where it desperately needed to be. "Fuck! The damn floor!"

Without a second thought he launched to his feet and threw her arm around his shoulders, jumping over furniture and dodging debris as it fell from the ceiling. Beneath them chunks of concrete quickly disappeared into the pit after their steps passed. Coming to the base of the stairs, the stressed groan of the building unleashed a large piece of the ceiling. Zoey barely caught the falling steel beam with her peripheral, there was no way they'd move away fast enough. Before she could even finish the thought something knocked her forward. With a grunt she found herself crumpled on the stairs, trying to regain her wits after the countless impact of the day, but her pain was her last concern. Spinning around, she expected to see the horror of a man torn in two, even crushed to death and twitching.

His shock was greater than her own. Eyes glowing a fierce gold as he held the beam on his shoulders from his knees. He grit his teeth and grunted in surprise when he found himself able to push himself to stand and shrug it off behind him like a set of free weights. It hit ground once then tumbled into the pit.

Abruptly, the moment ended.

He lost his balance, swaying to the left then falling forward to catch himself on the stair railing as all the unnatural strength left him. He felt used-up and weak, as if he'd just spent the last ten days running nonstop. Zoey notice his eyes stopped glowing and for all intents and purposes he was back to normal, but she was not comforted as the world continued to self destruct around them.

"Ooh... oh shit." He breathed, clutching at his painfully aching heart.

The fall off point was rapidly approaching. "We gotta go!" Zoey barked. She knew they didn't have time to run out of gas, or lick their wounds. Scurrying over to him, she latched her arm around his waist and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, noting with marked confusion that it was a normal weight again. Shaking her head she pushed them forward and they used the last of their combined strength to climb up the stairs.

Zoey's face twisted in pain with every muscle movement, but damnit, she wanted to live.

"I hate... I really hate stairs." She gasped just as they leapt from the last step of the metal apparatus before it crumbled and fell into the pit with the rest of the lower level.

"Join the damn club!"

Hobbling to the door, they slammed on the breaks when a massive metal barrier slid shut.

"Balls! Over there!" She yelled, pointing across the catwalk to the still open door to the lab. Francis powered them off for it, throwing a bevy of curses as it slammed shut as well.

"_Leaving so soon?"_

They released each other, turning slowly as the source of the voice rose out of the center of the pit. Or at least a video of the source. A giant view screen rose out of the pit with the image of what appeared to be a yellow light on a white rectangular head, bobbing on the end of a mechanical arm. Zoey stepped to his side, just as perplexed as she eyed the strange sight.

"What. The hell. Is that?" Francis said tonelessly.

"_No point in telling you my name. In ten minutes you won't remember it_."

"Damn right, cause we're getting the hell out of here." Zoey replied, snapping her head around looking for an exit.

"_Subject 1: Female. Smaller than average. Low lean body mass. Injured. Successful transition between modified and standard physiology. Testing probabilities less than optimal._"

"My what? Did you just call me fat?!"

"_Infected status alone saved meatbag from reclamation._"

"MEATBAG!?" Zoey snapped back, unaware of the danger before them. Alarms sounded in Francis's head, but just as he reached back for Zoey a pair of giant metallic clamps shot out of the black pit and snatched her away.

"FRANCIS!" Zoey wailed before she faded away into the darkness, her screams echoing futilely until they faded altogether. Running to the edge of the catwalk he stared helplessly after her into the darkness.

"ZOEY!" There was no response. Choking down fear, he yelled again. "DAMNIT ZOEY ANSWER ME!" Whipping his head up, he snarled at the computer screen. "GIVE HER BACK!"

The voice however, was blatantly unaffected by his menace.

_"Subject 2: Male. Larger than average. High lean body mass. Successful transition between modified and standard physiology. Testing probabilities optimal."_

"SHUT UP!" Francis growled and picked up a piece of concrete debris to launch at the giant screen and short it out. "I FUCKING HATE COMPUTERS!"

Despite his complete and utter hatred of heights he narrowed his eyes and peered into the pit, looking for something to jump down to an go after her. Shivering, a draft of frigid air slipped over his skin.

"_Don't be so impatient. Testing conditions would be optimal if you weren't dead. But if in the event you do not survive testing your DNA will be extracted upon your consent and used to create clones in the furtherance of science. Your failure to complete the test will be viewed as consent._"

"What?!" Francis barked, more than a little surprised he hadn't managed to kill the voice with the screen.

Another pair of giant mechanical clamps shot out of the darkness and tore him off his perch to thrust him down into the pit. A mixture of fear and surprise erupted in his chest and he screamed as he descended until he no longer had air in his lungs.

* * *

Louis, Collins, Ellis and Rochelle exited the building beneath fire from Coach and Nick in the midst of desperately trying to fend off a contingent of specials setting on the truck. Pausing before jumping in the truck, Louis looked back for Francis and Zoey, however nothing but crashing building materials could be seen in the warehouse doors.

"Francis! Zoey!" He cried, hopping back towards the exit. Rochelle grabbed him, refusing to let go. Ellis looked back, moving to go back into the building when Rochelle's yell pulled him back.

"Get in the truck Ellis! No time for thrilling heroics!"

In the distance they could hear the engines of the F-22's coming in for the air strike. Louis stared out the back of the truck after Rochelle unceremoniously shoved him in, praying for his friends to exit the building, but they never did.

"No!" Louis yelled, staring out the back window in wide eyed horror as Coach slammed the truck into gear and hit the gas, "Something's wrong! Go back! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GO BACK!"

"WE CAN'T! The Raptors are here!" Collins roared, "We do and we're all dead!"

"THEY NEED HELP!" He cried desperately. Beside him, Rochelle gently laid her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry."

"NO! WE HAVE TO GO BACK!" He reached for the door handle, but Collins saw and immediately disabled the mechanism. Pulling futilely on the lever he turned back just in time to watch the building disappear around the corner. "NOOOOOO!"

* * *

When Coach decided they had reached a safe distance he stopped the truck. Everyone piled out just as the roars of the F-22s sped past, momentarily flattening the golden grass fields. Louis started hopping as fast as his leg could carry him. Bill followed, whining at his remaining master. Ahead the bombing had begun and the heat and force from the munitions came back in waves.

In the distance they could see two gargantuan figures erupting into flames, chunks of flesh flying into the sky as the 50 cal rounds and Tomahawk Missiles tore them apart.

Accepting the futility, Louis dropped to his knees and watched the fireballs rise in the sky. The dog limped up to and sat beside him, laying his good ear flat against his head and cowering to the ground. Louis placed both hands on the back of his head in silent disbelief and utter_ denial_.

"No. No. They're ok. Francis always finds a way out. It's all he's good for!"

Behind him the others stood in a line, watching the deadly fireworks with grim expressions.

When the F22's flew off, Collins's radio chirped to life.

"_Agent Collins, are you and the survivors safe?"_

"Yes, sir, but we have suffered fatalities."

Louis spun around. "We don't _know_ that!"

"_Get them together, we have a ride waiting for you 80 miles out at Oceanside."_

"A ride?"

"_All you Tango Mikes are being taken to an island for safety."_

"Derek, I'm not leaving." Louis said coldly, awkwardly standing before stubbornly hopping back down the road toward the compound.

"Louis!" Rochelle called after him, grabbing his arm again. "You don't want to see that!"

"I need to know!"

"There probably won't even be bodies!"

Collins looked to the silent three, then back over to Rochelle and Louis.

"Look, he never said when we need to get there, or specifically where to go. It won't hurt just to look."

"Do you think that's a good idea, son?" Coach asked quietly.

"When I served, there were times I wanted to go back. I won't deny him this."

The truck rolled back into the compound. Fires raged on all sides as the houses burned and corpses of deformed special infected littered the streets. They moved through slowly and carefully until they reached the former location of the lab complex.

There was nothing left. Not even burning debris. Everyone got out of the vehicle and explored what was now an empty metal plated lot.

"There should be _something_ here!" Ellis motioned with an exasperated wave of his arm, saying what everyone was thinking.

"You all saw it, the ground was literally eating the building." Nick added, kneeling over to feel the floor, which was now a smooth metal surface for several hundred thousand square feet, the only variance in the surface being the cracks where each square metal panel lined up with the next.

Louis looked around frantically. "There aren't any scorch marks or craters where the lab once was!"

"Well, no, they wouldn't waste their resources on what looks like nothing." Collins replied, kneeling like Nick to feel the metal. "I have never seen anything like this."

"So, even if they were standing right here, they probably wouldn't have been hurt!" Louis said excitedly. "They're _still_ alive! No bodies, no death!"

All eyes turned to him. Rochelle approached and knelt beside him. "Louis, sweetie."

Swatting her arm away, he took to trying to pry the panel up with his fingers. "Don't patronize me! They're in there! I have the laptops! I'll figure out how to reach them!" His voice rose an octave and picked up speed. "Eccentric billionaire Cave Johnson passed away in the early 90's. All clues to the location of his once world famous lab and fortune vanished without a trace. Based on the information on the first laptop, the founders of CEDA found his old lab here! If those idiots can get in there, I can too! Just gotta get my fingers under... one of these..."

"We're going to have to leave and come back. It's not safe-" Collins began firmly but Louis cut him off, a darkness in his voice.

"If I have to eat dirt and sleep in the grass, I am not leaving without Francis and Zoey!"

"You don't have a choice! Who knows how many of those monsters are running around right now!"

"NO!"

"Louis, please! I have a duty to get you to safety!" Derek begged, silently reaching for the cuffs on his belt. "Don't make me use force!"

Rochelle's eyes widened and she addressed the fed suspiciously. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm not leaving!" Louis cried, trying to scramble up to his good leg and escape. Derek quickly caught up to him.

"It's not safe!" He reasoned. "Come back with us, then we can return-"

"NO! I WILL NEVER THEM BEHIND! THEY NEVER LEFT ME!"

Louis tripped and sprawled forward to land with a thud on his stomach, his chin bouncing off the metal surface. With his last burst of energy he continued to crawl, until Collins's hands were pulling his arms behind his back and latching them into cuffs.

"STOP IT!" Rochelle cried, running out to tackle the fed. They tumbled to the ground and when Rochelle tried to throw a punch a set of powerful arms pulled her up off of him, but she continued to try and kick at him. "HE JUST LOST HIS FRIENDS! LEAVE HIM ALONE!" She yelled, twisting and jumping to get free of her captor.

"Little sister, please don't." Coach's gentle timber rumbled from behind her. "It's not easy for him either."

Derek returned to his feet, face red and quaking as he approached Louis again, standing over him. "Louis, please!" He begged, "You don't know how important you are right now! You're the only one that knows how to translate the information on those computers! I can't let you stay here and die! Millions of people need you alive!"

"I deserve to die." He mumbled into the ground, body going limp. "I failed them." Collins rolled him over and sat him up, getting ready to pull him back up to his feet like he'd done a thousand times before with criminals. Louis leaned forward, head bowed as streams of moisture left tracks down his dirty cheeks. "When I was hurt, they healed me. When I couldn't walk, they carried me. Now I'm leaving... no... NO! I'LL NEVER LEAVE THEM!"

Louis bucked and head butted Collins, then kicked the fed away. He couldn't use his arms or legs so it was impossible to stand. It was demoralizing to see him squirm on the ground, desperately trying to gain footing.

Black heart bleeding, Nick couldn't take it anymore. He'd witnessed enough of the man breaking before them, he couldn't just standby while his dignity was robbed as well. Face stone cold he walked up behind Louis and pistol whipped him, knocking him out cold. Looking up to the others, his face was red and angry as he addressed them.

"Quit..." his voice cracked and he faltered, "Quit dicking around and put him in the damn truck. Let's get the hell out of here before we lose anyone else. And for the love of God, take these damn cuffs off him."

* * *

The descent never seemed to end. More mechanical arms appeared, ripping her clothing from her body, then unceremoniously replacing it all with a sleeveless white shirt sectioned with blue and gray around her waist. An orange jump suit was forced on and zipped up to her chest. The worst part was when some devices were painfully clamped onto her calves. The journey ended as she was dropped into a dark glass cube outfitted with some sort of pod/ gurney and a toilet. She cried out when she landed on the balls of her bare feet, the calf devices shooting pain into her legs and preventing her heels from touching the ground. Unable to hold herself up she collapsed in a heap. More metal hands plucked her from the floor and then she was dangled by her wrists.

"Stop this! Let me go!"

"_Aperture Laboratories appreciates your decision to volunteer for testing. Please comply with the admission procedures for a smooth and nonfatal process."_

"Fuck you! I am _not_ volunteering for shit!"

A bright circular light glowed to life before her eyes and it pierced into her brain. The mechanical arms prevented her from turning away. Out of the darkness a needle appeared and entered the base of her skull without warning. She shrieked at the blinding pain and grew woozy when chemicals rushed into her head. Before her eyes her entire life played like a movie and slipped away, piece by piece. She wanted to cry out again, but found, her voice had left her as well. Her body felt heavy and she went limp.

Slowly she was laid back on a soft bed and the memory stealing light followed her down. Soon she found herself unable to move, practically paralyzed and very tired. The room and her bed jolted momentarily and her head lolled to the side, away from the light. She passively took in the sight before her. A man was across from her in another glass cube, fighting the metal hands as they undressed and redressed him. She felt a pang of familiarity briefly grace her mind. Did she know him? Why was his face... so familiar...

Moisture welled up in her eyes. _Crying_? Why would she cry for this stranger?

He screamed in desperation as a that awful needle entered his skull and another eye forcefully captured his gaze. Refusing to succumb he continued to fight the metal hands and with one last grand effort he twisted his head free. Wild fear in his eyes, he looked to her empty face.

"ZOEY!" He cried before being overpowered and his face was forced back to the eye. _Zoey_... she knew that name... it was her name. Beads of wetness escaped her lids when for a brief second she recalled his name as well with a sad smile, mouthing it on her silent lips. _Francis._

She witnessed in frozen horror as he went limp and was laid on a bed like hers. Slowly a glass barrier was lowered and it sealed him in. The light eye remained trained in on him. She repeated his name in her head like a mantra. _Francis... Francis... Francis..._

The cold metal hands returned and slowly turned her head back to the eye. In a few seconds everything was gone... her name... his name... the fear... the world.


End file.
